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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110432">Travail</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestChocobo/pseuds/TheLittlestChocobo'>TheLittlestChocobo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Perhaps There Is Only Abyss [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Lyrium Addiction, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Drug Addiction, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Hawke (Dragon Age), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:48:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>124,848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestChocobo/pseuds/TheLittlestChocobo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eira Lavellan had been a woman dedicated to her clan and proud to fulfill her role as First. As she is thrust into a role and society she had never expected, she struggles to understand her destiny as she fights an impossible enemy. Will she find a purpose within the Inquisition, or will the shemlen use her for their own purposes and leave her broken?</p><p>Cullen Rutherford found a purpose in the Inquisition, and he is intent on putting his past behind him. It would be far easier if the demons he was trying to leave behind would stay there. How can he move onward when that damned Hawke is determined to drag him back down?</p><p>A mostly-canon retelling of the Inquisition storyline, focusing on themes of identity and redemption. Slow-burn, slightly-angsty goodness.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Female Hawke, Female Amell &amp; Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Female Hawke &amp; Cullen Rutherford, Female Hawke &amp; Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas, Hawke &amp; Cullen Rutherford, Hawke &amp; Varric Tethras</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Perhaps There Is Only Abyss [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira Lavellan wakes in the middle of a nightmare.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A flash. Pain. An explosion. Running. Clawing. Screaming. A white-hot poker shoved through the back of her hand. She screamed. Tumbled. Fell. The ground rushed up to meet her, biting into her knees. Cutting. Bleeding. Then, nothing but black.</p><p>Eira slowly regained consciousness, alerted first to the screaming pain in her hand, next to the litany of bruises, gashes, and burns covering her body. The next thing she noticed were the voices. Two women arguing. Eira groaned and opened her eyes. The room swam briefly, then came into focus. The walls were bare, damp stone. The room was illuminated by torches placed near a doorway. Eira felt the same cold, damp stone beneath her, grainy pebbles cutting into her shins as she knelt. She could barely feel her arms, aside from the throbbing of her palm. Glancing to the side, she realized she was shackled. Her fingertips looked pale and white from being held in position above her head for… she wasn’t sure how long she had been unconscious. The arguing voices stopped abruptly as one of the women turned to her.</p><p>“You’re awake,” she said. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed, and everyone in attendance is dead. Except you.” The woman advanced on her, and Eira found she couldn’t back away, not with the wall behind her. She had short hair and sharp features. Her voice was an accent Eira was sure she had heard before, but couldn’t quite place. It was hard to think straight with her head throbbing so. She pressed her eyes shut, as if that would somehow grant her a few more moments. But the woman in the armor scoffed, and grabbed Eira’s hand.</p><p>“Explain <i>this</i>!” She said. Eira cried out at the woman’s touch, which added a sharp stab of pain to the dull throb.</p><p>“I… can’t,” Eira said. She knew it sounded pathetic, but she was too disoriented to craft a better response.</p><p>“What do you mean, you ‘<i>can’t</i>’?” The woman shouted. She leaned in, her face inches from Eira’s. Eira turned her head aside, not daring to meet the woman’s eyes.</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>“I don’t know what it is or how it got there! I have no idea what’s happening to me,” Eira said. Her voice wavered, and she silently cursed herself for not being able to conceal her fear.</p><p>“Liar!” The woman spat, raising her hand and striking Eira across the face. Eira gasped, too stunned to cry out. Tears welled in her eyes at the sudden pain, and she could feel a new cut opened up along her brow as something-- a ring or armor-- had sliced her skin. She felt warm blood begin dripping from her forehead.</p><p>“Cassandra, enough! We need her,” the second woman said. Eira looked up, having forgotten about her. Her accent was unfamiliar, softer. Everything about her was softer, in fact. She was armored only in a long vest of mail, and had a round, pretty face. She placed a hand on the other woman’s-- Cassandra’s-- arm. Cassandra dropped Eira’s hand, her face screwed up with disgust. She turned away, and said nothing. Eira looked between the women, eyes darting wildly.</p><p>“Whatever you think I did, I-- I’m innocent!” She said. She was sure she sounded unconvincing, with her trembling voice. A wave of fear washed over her as the second woman turned and stared at her. She had been very wrong in thinking this woman was any softer than Cassandra. Her expression held no kindness. </p><p>“I remember running. Something-- lots of things, I think, they were chasing me. I don’t know where I was, I couldn’t see well. And then, there was a woman, helping me. She pulled me up--”</p><p>“A woman?” The second woman interrupted, clearly surprised.</p><p>“I tried to grab her hand, but… I don’t know, after that. The next thing I remember is waking up here,” Eira said. The two women stared down at her, and then Cassandra moved toward her once more. Eira felt a stab of panic in her gut, sure she was about to be punished for her inadequate story. She flinched as Cassandra reached forward, but the blow she expected never came. Instead, Cassandra produced a key and opened the manacles holding her arms. Eira quickly pulled her arms inward, flexing her fingers to regain bloodflow. She began to massage them, but yelped with pain as she touched too near her left palm. She looked down, and felt nausea well up inside her. There, across her palm, was something that looked like a gaping wound. Her skin rent around it, red and twisted. But instead of blood, the wound seemed to bleed a strange green light. She had never seen anything like this, but she wasn’t foolish enough to consider it good.</p><p>“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rifts,” Cassandra said. Leliana nodded and left, remarkably light on her feet. Cassandra grabbed Eira by the wrist and pulled her toward the door. </p><p>“What is happening?” Eira asked. She considered wrenching her arm free and fleeing, but she had no idea how many others were out there and just how many <i>shemlen</i> wanted her dead. </p><p>“It will be easier to show you,” Cassandra said. She pulled Eira through a hall and then out into a snow-blanketed landscape. She followed Cassandra’s gaze up to the sky. There was an angry, roiling stormcloud. No, more than that. It was a churning mass, made up of dark clouds and, somehow, a deep, emerald green gash. It emitted flashes and sparks of light, colored in the same impossible hue as her hand.</p><p>“We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave,” Cassandra said. Eira stared, mouth hanging open.</p><p>“An explosion can do that?” She asked. Her voice was a whisper.</p><p>“This one did. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world,” Cassandra said. Eira gaped at the angry sky, and suddenly there was a bright green flare. Eira felt the mark on her hand respond in kind, and she screamed and fell to her knees. It felt as if someone had managed to insert their fingers between the bones of her hand and they were tugging her apart from inside.</p><p>“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time,” Cassandra said. She pulled Eira to her feet.</p><p>“You think I did this to myself?” Eira said. Her voice was loud, and raw from her scream of pain. Her upper lip curled into a snarl, though she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or pain. It didn’t matter, anyway.</p><p>“<i>Someone</i> is responsible,” Cassandra said. She again grabbed Eira’s arm and began to walk briskly. “If you want to prove your innocence, you will come with me and help us fix this mess.” They walked toward a large gate, which was pulled open by soldiers. </p><p>“Where are you taking me?” Eira asked. She looked around wildly, not recognizing any of her surroundings. </p><p>“We must test your mark on something smaller than the Breach. Come, it is not far,” Cassandra said. She dropped Eira’s arm and instead donned her shield and sword. She looked back, then began to lead the way forward. The path ahead of them was grim. Soldiers stood, huddled around supply crates. Some were wounded, and several were dead bodies that had been transported back. Eira heard cries and frantic murmurs. They passed by the confusion largely unnoticed, blending in with the couriers bringing supplies to and from the fighting ahead. They continued forward, then, passing barricades empty of living soldiers. Eira noted several mages dead, as well as one corpse dressed in templar armor. There were fires burning around them, but their path remained relatively clear and disturbingly quiet. Eira heard what sounded like a thunder clap, and stumbled as her vision blurred. The pain in her hand eclipsed her ability to think. She fell to her knees in agony. </p><p>“The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face,” Cassandra said. She helped Eira back to her feet.</p><p>“How did I survive the blast?” Eira asked. She felt a trickle of sweat drip between her shoulder blades as she fought off the latest wave of pain.</p><p>“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.” </p><p>The two continued onward in silence. Eira found herself breathing heavily, trying to keep up with the taller woman. A path was worn into the snow, probably by soldiers marching over to their destination. Eira tried to block out the distant screams and scrapes of metal across metal and focus on putting her feet on level ground. It would do no good to twist an ankle in a snow-covered hole. Eira saw a second bridge up ahead, and Cassandra’s pace quickened. Eira was beginning to pant, breaking into a jog. She felt her stained shirt clinging to her sweat-dampened body, and sweat beginning to spring along her forehead. She willed herself forward, past the incessant pain of a hundred cuts and bruises that screamed at her to stop. They topped the incline and stepped up onto the bridge. Eira noted several corpses, who looked as if they had met a particularly bloody end. As she passed, she felt the ground drop out from under her. A large stone hurled into a pillar of the bridge, and it quickly collapsed in a tumble of stone. Cassandra and Eira tumbled onto the icy lake. Eira flipped and turned, the world churning around her. She landed with a sickening thud, and all the air was pushed from her lungs at the force of the impact. She lay dazed for several moments, and saw Cassandra get up and run, sword at the ready. Eira’s heart sank. There was a creature ahead, something large and towering. It was moving toward them at an undulating pace, like some sick fluid monster. Eira pushed herself to her feet, muttering a prayer to Mythal that her legs appeared to be working still. </p><p>“Stay behind me!” Cassandra yelled as she clashed with the shade. Eira was frozen, fixated on the woman trading blows with the demon. Then, she heard a sickening crash as another shade winked into existence and began toward her. Eira swung her head wildly, assessing escape routes through the rubble of the ruined bridge. Then she saw the staff. She lunged for it, and shuddered as her hands gripped the icy shaft. She breathed in sharply, then, and focused deep within herself. She pulled threads of energy and channeled them up from her center to her fingertips, then focused them through her staff. The result was a crackling of energy, and a bolt of electricity that flashed down from the sky to pierce her enemy. It stood, paralyzed by the force, and Eira continued to barrage it with shocks. After long seconds, the shade dissipated into nothing. Eira looked up quickly, and saw that Cassandra had managed to cleave her shade in two. Eira ran toward her, adrenaline pushing her forward as if she weren’t tired and hurting. </p><p>“Drop your weapon,” Cassandra commanded. Eira screwed up her face defiantly. She had just <i>protected</i> the woman, for the gods’ sake.</p><p>“Do you think I need this staff to be dangerous?” Eira asked. She did, really. Though she was an adequate caster, she wasn’t particularly skilled at casting without a focus. But Cassandra didn’t know that.</p><p>“We were attacked. I helped you! I haven’t used my magic until now,” Eira said. Cassandra deflated slightly.</p><p>“I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to continue defenseless. I shall remember your… restraint,” Cassandra said. Her lips were tight with resignation as she turned to continue onward. They ran forward into the snow-blanketed hills, stopping several times as more demons and shades accosted them. Cassandra was a very skilled fighter, Eira noted. It would be very difficult to get away, if the time came that she had to run. Eira was glad to feel the electricity crackling around her. She felt much more in control than she had in that dungeon where she was questioned. Eira heard the shouting grow closer as they approached a stairway ahead, and then again the strange crunching sound as the air atop the stairway burst into green light.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Inquisitor Eira Lavellan</p><p> <br/>https://www.deviantart.com/thelittlestchocobo/art/Inquisitor-Lavellan-864926191</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira begins to understand the power she now wields.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cassandra sprinted up the stairs, with Eira gasping and struggling to keep up behind her. She could see demons in the clearing above them, and several soldiers fighting them. Eira crested the stairs and immediately let out a burst of lightning from her staff. It took her seconds to survey the scene. Three monsters, and a crackling maw of green light above. She called a bolt down onto one demon, then pulled it so it jumped to another, and then the other. The soldiers fighting the third demon jumped back in surprise, leaving themselves open to attack.</p><p>“<i>Fen’harel ver na</i>,” Eria muttered, seeing them stumble. She pulled her energy wildly, then, and set the ground beneath the shade aflame before it could advance on the surprised soldiers. A bolt lodged itself in the shade’s side and it began to dissolve into the air, into nothing. Eira spun, and found the other two demons had been dispatched. The two surprised soldiers quickly righted themselves and shrank back from the rift. </p><p>	“Quickly, before more come through!” a man yelled. He grabbed her wrist and pulled sharply, yanking her hand from her staff. He tugged her forward, and she felt a pull from her palm. She yelled and tried to wrench herself away, but she saw, with wide-eyed horror, that her hand was connected with the green hole by a long, glimmering thread of green light. She was transfixed. She couldn’t move her hand away. Her eyes grew wide with panic, and her chest heaved as her breath quickened. Around her was a sound, like someone scraping metal against glass, but so loud and crackling and discordant, and the pitch was increasing higher and higher, and it filled her head until she felt she may burst apart. Then, it stopped. At that moment, Eira clenched her fist and pulled her hand away, as if she was severing the link that had been formed. A bright flash blinded her for a moment and a sound of shattering filled the air, and when it was gone, so was the rift. She blinked, awestruck. She swayed slightly, suddenly dizzy. Eira pulled her hand instinctively to her chest, holding it there protectively with her other arm. She turned to the man.</p><p>	“What did you do?” She demanded. </p><p>	“I did nothing. The credit is yours,” he said. Her gaze flicked over him, taking in as much information as she could. He was tall, slender, and bald, with light eyes and light, smooth skin. She was surprised by the long, pointed ears that matched her own. And, even more, by the staff he held in his hand. Another elven mage, then. Eira felt a glimmer of hope within her. If there was another elven mage, whose presence was at least tolerated, there was hope that she wouldn’t be executed immediately.</p><p>	“You mean this,” Eira said, holding out her hand for him to examine.</p><p>	“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct,” he said. His voice was cool and even, despite the chaos around them. </p><p>	“Which means it could close the Breach itself,” Cassandra said, her voice harsh and stern in comparison. She was wiping her sword clean of the dark, thick liquid that the shades bled. </p><p>	“Possibly,” the elf answered. Cassandra scowled at him. He turned to Eira. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”</p><p>	“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever,” said another man, stepping toward them while securing a crossbow to his bandolier. “Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” he said, with a grin and a wink to Cassandra. The man was a dwarf, obviously, given his height. He had clearly seen fights before, as evidenced by a scar across his nose. He didn’t appear to be taking this too seriously, with an easy smile that seemed as out-of-place after a battle as the elf’s unwavering lack of expression.</p><p>	“Um. My name is Eira. It’s… nice to meet you, Varric,” Eira said, not sure what to say to someone who introduced himself so casually during a sky-rending catastrophe.</p><p>	“You may reconsider that stance, in time,” the elf replied. Eira couldn’t tell if he was joking.</p><p>	“Aww. I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Solas,” Varric said. Eira looked back to the elf, whose face was set in a slight frown. Perhaps, then, he had not been joking.</p><p>	“We need to get to the forward camp,” Cassandra said, interrupting the men. “Leliana will be waiting.” She had sheathed her sword, and was stowing away the cloth she had used to wipe down her sword and armor.</p><p>	“Great idea! Bianca and I will take the back,” Varric said, holding his crossbow aloft.</p><p>	“You named your crossbow Bianca?” Eira asked, at the same time that Cassandra yelled “Absolutely not!” Varric looked between the women and chuckled, then turned to Cassandra. </p><p>	“Have you seen the valley, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control. You need every fighter you can get, even the roguishly charming dwarves,” he said. Cassandra scoffed in disgust, but didn’t argue.</p><p>	“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live,” Solas said to Eira, ignoring the bickering.</p><p>	“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’,” Varric added. Solas pushed his lips together in annoyance. </p><p>	“You know a lot about it,” Eira said. She stepped closer, looking up at him. She raised her brows in question. Solas was proving to be more interesting by the minute, she decided.</p><p>	“Solas is an apostate, like you,” Cassandra said.</p><p>	“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin,” Solas said. He seemed surprisingly calm, as if he were debating the merits of a linen shirt versus a cotton one. Eira looked at him then. He was surprisingly clean, given the fighting he had been doing. She was reminded then of her own clothes, stained in blood and whatever dark ichor those shades released as they died. Solas regarded her with an unwavering gaze, cold blue eyes dancing from her hand to her staff to her pointed ears and over her green <i>vallaslin</i>. </p><p>	“<i>Serannasan ma</i>, Solas. I would love to hear more, after we… after I close the Breach,” Eira said. She tried to stand up straight, but winced as she felt the mark on her hand pulse again. Solas gave her a small smile, then.</p><p>	“Thank me if we manage it without killing you in the process,” he said. He turned to Cassandra. “Cassandra, the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”</p><p>	“Understood. Let’s get to the camp,” Cassandra said. She turned and began to walk, still scowling. The others followed behind, navigating the rubble. Eira was glad for the slower pace, but the adrenaline she had felt was worn off. They pushed forward, the minutes stretching on. She struggled to keep herself moving, fighting against every small injury. She remembered that she had spent hours, at least, crumpled on a cold dungeon floor. Her legs were increasingly heavy, and she stumbled over the rocks littering the path. The second time she fell, Solas caught her, grabbing her arm and her waist to steady her. She mumbled thanks, too tired to be embarrassed. He held her steady for a moment, and they fell behind slightly. She looked up at him, green eyes meeting his blue, but couldn’t quite find the energy to smile. </p><p>	“You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?” He asked. Eira paused a moment before answering. Even if the elven man was her most likely ally, she didn’t want to reveal any more information about herself than necessary. She was still awaiting some sort of trial, as far as she knew.</p><p>	“You’re from an alienage, then? What do you know of the Dalish?” she asked. She had guessed he was from an alienage, given his lack of <i>vallaslin</i>. She was still surprised, somehow. Most city elves she met weren’t as studied as he appeared to be.</p><p>	“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion,” he responded. Perhaps not from an alienage, then. She looked up at him, trying to catch her breath enough so that she could reply.</p><p>	“We are of the same people, Solas,” she said.</p><p>	“The Dalish I met felt… differently on the subject,” he replied. Eira took a breath to respond, when Varric called back to them.</p><p>	“Hurry up, we’re almost there! Aren’t you elves good at navigating the wilderness?” Varric gestured to the trees and rocky hills around them. Eira whimpered as the mark on her palm flared once again. Solas wound his arm around her back, hand on her waist, bracing her as she lost her balance. He gently brought her arm up and around his shoulders, so that he was supporting her weight as they continued forward.</p><p>	“My magic cannot stop the mark from growing further. We must bring you to the breach quickly,” he said to her softly. Eira grimaced as she forced her feet forward. Solas kept his arm around her, and together they made their way up the perilous staircase to the forward camp.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Elven words and phrases provided from the AMAZING “Project Elvhen”. It's a fascinating read, for anyone interested in linguistics</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira and her companions push onward to the Temple of sacred Ashes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira finally ascended the last of the steps with Solas supporting her. She heard voices ahead, many of them. She assumed they were soldiers, receiving orders or requesting aid. Two voices were raised against the general chatter, and one she thought she recognized. At the very least, it was the same accent that Leliana had, with its smoothed and omitted consonants. </p><p>	“We must prepare the soldiers!” said probably-Leliana.</p><p>	“We will do no such thing,” a man replied,</p><p>	“The prisoner must go to the Temple of the Sacred Ashes, it’s our only chance,” Leliana said.</p><p>	“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility.”</p><p>	“I have caused trouble?”</p><p>	“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy – haven’t you all done enough already?”</p><p>	“You’re not in command here!”</p><p>	“Enough! I will not have it!” The man yelled. Eira saw him shake his head and turn away from Leliana. They were walking closer now, and Eira untangled her arm from Solas’s shoulders and pulled herself to walk on her own, using her staff to lean on as discreetly as possible. “<i>Deshanna would be furious</i>” she thought, with a small smile. She would never forget one of her first times training with Keeper Deshanna, when she had shown “disrespect and irreverence” toward the “instrument of her arts.” Deshanna had been a stern teacher, but she had grown to love her during her time with clan Lavellan. Another shout brought Eira’s wandering attention back to the camp, and the figures standing before her.</p><p>	“Ah, here they come. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution,” the man said, speaking to Cassandra while levelling his pointed finger toward Eira. He wore a white robe, with a red surcote draped over it. Over his dark-haired head was a white cowl, and a black hat with a golden sunburst design. Despite avoiding <i>shemlen</i> religion as much as possible, it was easy for Eira to identify a member of the Chantry. Eira was relieved when Cassandra stepped in, impressed that the woman was still angry, and glad that anger was directed at someone other than her.</p><p>“Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” Cassandra said.</p><p>“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”</p><p>“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana said. She stepped slightly to stand next to Cassandra. She rested a hand gently on Cassandra’s shoulder, perhaps to remind her restraint. The two women presented an intimidating front, standing together in front of the angry man. Roderick stepped backward, then puffed up his chest in indignation.</p><p>“Justinia is dead! We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter.”</p><p>“There’s a Breach in the sky! We need to deal with that first,” Eira said. Roderick looked at her for the first time, his eyes wild with anger. Eira met his gaze, trying not to betray her exhaustion. Roderick looked away with a huff, and talked again to Cassandra.</p><p>“How would you stop them? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers,” he said.</p><p>“We will charge with the soldiers. We will be able to make it. You’re wrong, Chancellor,” Cassandra said.</p><p>“Our forces could charge and create a distraction while we go through the mountain pass instead,” Leliana said, looking out toward the snowy mountain peaks.</p><p>“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky,” Cassandra argued.</p><p>“Listen to me. Abandon this now, before more lives are lost,” Roderick said to her, trying to sound imperious. They stood, then, even Varric silent. Snow began to fall around them, fat flakes that fell on Eira’s face as she watched the humans arguing.</p><p>“What do you think we should do?” Cassandra asked, turning to Eira. Eira turned around, looking to see who Cassandra had been addressing. Seeing no one, she balked for a moment. </p><p>“You’re asking for my opinion?” She said, incredulous.</p><p>“You’re the one we need to keep alive,” Cassandra said. For the first time, the woman looked tired. She leaned against a crate and hung her head forward slightly. Eira, in spite of herself, felt sorry for her. Perhaps she had taken her prisoner, but she was still a person. No, it would not be wise to let this momentary display of vulnerability fool her. She was still a prisoner, even if the woman in charge of her displayed a sympathetic moment. She brushed her hand up against her right brow, feeling the dried blood from Cassandra’s blow earlier. She sighed.</p><p>“We should go with the soldiers,” she said. <i>I don’t want to die alone in the mountain passes, either from exposure, demons, or from a disagreement with a temperamental warrior.</i> Leliana sighed, but said nothing. Roderick shook his head angrily, but Cassandra pushed him gently aside.</p><p>“Before we go,” Leliana said. She held out a vial toward Eira. The liquid inside was a dark, ruddy red color. Eira took the vial, removed the cork, and sniffed. Sure enough, she recognized the bitter infusion of echinacea and elfroot, tempered with several other herbs over a fire. Eira drank quickly, coughing as the bitter liquid settled down her throat. She stood up straighter, then, the pounding in her head abating slightly. She felt some of her more superficial cuts beginning to close over. She nodded in thanks to Leliana, then tucked the empty vial into the pocket of her breeches. The party moved out, then. Cassandra took the lead, followed by Eira. She was better able to keep up, after the draught of medicinal herbs. Solas walked closely behind her, and then Leliana in the rear. The walk was uneventful, excepting the scenes of destruction around them. Eira turned away sharply as they passed a Chantry mother tending to what appeared to be a heap of corpses. She needed to focus on the task ahead. </p><p>They walked forward briskly, until a makeshift battlement came into view. Above it, an angry green rift spawning shades and demons. Eira didn’t waste time, she charged forward with Cassandra. As she ran, she reached down into her mana stores and focused her energy through her staff. A concentration of energy above the shade in the middle with a wave of her staff, which branched out in a chain as she gestured sideways. She summoned more electricity, not waiting to see the effect her first spell had. She felt a cool, protective barrier spring up around her. It laid like a tingling blanket over her skin. Surprised, she looked beside her. Solas nodded, then called the frozen Haven air around an approaching shade, encasing it in ice. Cassandra had raced forward, and Varric stayed behind aiming Bianca at a demon who was rearing up against a friendly soldier. Leliana had disappeared, though Eira had seen her drawing a wicked blade before she did. The demon turned and screamed, and a well-armored thrust forward with his sword, slicing it deeply. It reached forward a taloned hand toward him, and Eira instinctively shot a bolt of electricity to stun it. The soldier ended the demon with a clean, powerful swing of his sword. The battle was over in minutes. Eira held out her hand, just as Solas had done for her earlier. For an instant she felt foolish, but then the familiar green tether appeared. Seconds later, Eira tore her hand away, and the rift disappeared in a flash of light and a discordant crash. Eira stood, again leaning on her staff for support. Her breath was ragged and short, blowing at the plump snowflakes falling in front of her.</p><p>“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this,” Solas said, walking up beside her, mouth pulled into a modest smile.</p><p>“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric said. He was taking the time to rummage through his packs. He pulled bolts from a pack at his side, and moved them to a pocked that Eira thought he could reach quickly during a fight. The soldier jogged over to them, removing his helmet as he approached. A mantle of fur sat atop the shoulders of his armor. He was broad and tall, with blond hair flattened and matted with sweat.</p><p>“Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift? Well done,” he called. He looked at Cassandra, focusing his attention on her once he drew near.</p><p>“Don’t give her all the credit, Curly. Her prisoner here did all the work,” Varric said. The soldier’s face hardened into a frown at the dwarf’s voice. He looked over at the rest of the group, scowling at Varric, until his gaze settled on Eira.</p><p>“Is that so? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here,” he said. </p><p>“I don’t know what is being said about me, so I’m not sure I could agree,” Eira replied. The man made her nervous. Dark eyes and a dark stare. He looked like someone she wouldn’t want to cross. He stared down his nose at her, regarding her silently.</p><p>“I will do what I can to close the Breach,” she said. Apparently, that was enough for him.</p><p>“That’s all we can ask,” he said. He turned to Cassandra. “Leliana, help me gather the forces to form a perimeter. Cassandra, the way to the temple should be clear. Maker watch over you-- for all our sakes.” He strode away, then, helping an injured soldier to their feet and ushering others to a gap in the battlements. </p><p>________________________________</p><p>The party fell silent as they crested the ridge overlooking the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Eira felt a hush pushing on her, weighing her down. The ruins stretched out before her. She had expected rubble, sure, and perhaps some fires or debris. But what she saw before her was horror. The temple lay cratered, with a hole of nothingness where the structure should have been. Eira and her team walked downward, toward the entryway into a ruined hall. She felt her stomach twist as she stumbled, looked down, and saw that she had tripped on a partially-mummified body, face screaming its last. Eira jumped back with a shout, then clasped her hands over her mouth. Somehow, it felt profane to break the silence of this place. She felt a hand on her arm. She looked over, then down at Varric. He gave her a small smile, then continued on. Eira closed her eyes and breathed in sharply through her nose, then released the breath slowly through her pursed lips. She opened her eyes, then continued walking down the hall. As she walked, she saw more bodies frozen in time, some burning, others standing as macabre statues. Suddenly, a booming voice engulfed them, louder than any person could ever talk. Eira stopped short, the sudden sound assaulting her.</p><p>	“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.” She looked wildly for Solas, but he was looking upward, searching for the source.</p><p>	“Somebody, please, help me!” a woman’s voice called.</p><p>	“Divine Justinia!” Cassandra shouted. She began sprinting forward, and Eira and the others followed a second later. They ran down the stone hallway and rounded a corner. There they stood, facing an explosion-carved crater. In the middle, an enormous rift pulsed with energy, bringing a fresh wave of pain to Eira’s palm. She clenched her fist and ground her teeth together, waiting for the feeling to pass. </p><p>	“This rift was the first. Closing it may help to stabilize the Breach,” Solas said. </p><p>	“Someone help me!” Justinia called out again. The voice seemed to be calling out from the rift itself.</p><p>	“What’s going on here?” a familiar voice answered. It was Eira’s voice, booming outward from the rift, the Dalish lilt to her words magnified a thousand times. A flash of light blinded them, and suddenly they saw ghostly images floating before them. The Divine, held aloft by the power of some twisted, hideous creature. And, unmistakably, a slight Dalish woman. The monstrosity reached out his hand and ordered that she be killed, and she lit up her hands with electrical energy in response. The light flashed again, and the images were gone. It felt strange, witnessing herself in a memory she couldn’t seem to recall. </p><p>	“Was this true? What are we seeing?” Cassandra demanded, grabbing Eira’s shoulder and shaking her.</p><p>	“Echoes of what happened,” Solas said. “The Veil is weak, and the Fade bleeds into this place.” Eira trembled, both from the shock of what she had witnessed and from the steady, searing pain in her hand.</p><p>	“We need to push forward. We can find out more after this is done,” she said. She tried to sound confident, like the leader her clan had trained her to be. The four climbed down into the cavern carefully, Eira once again requiring Solas’s assistance to navigate the chunks of rock. Finally, they came to the space below the rift. Eira was puzzled by the faintly glowing red rocks jutting up from the ground. She took a step forward, but Varric yanked her back by the back of her worn shirt.</p><p>	“That’s lyrium, kid! Don’t get too close,” he said.</p><p>	“It’s red. Lyrium is blue,” Eira replied. Silly to argue about lyrium with a dwarf, she realized. She had never actually seen lyrium in an unrefined form.</p><p>	“Not this stuff. This stuff is… we don’t really know. But it’s bad news,” Varric said. Eira took a few steps back. Cassandra and Varric shot each other a worried glance.</p><p>	“This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side,” Solas said. He nodded solemnly at Eira. </p><p>	“That means demons. Get ready, everyone,” Cassandra said. Eira looked around and noticed movement near the edges of the crater. They moved like humans, not demons, and Eira noted the gleam of a helmet. At least they had supporting forces. Eira felt her strength slipping away again, and decided not to delay any longer. She brandished her hand forward, and the rift sprang open, like a compressed coil that had finally been released. Immediately, an immense demon materialized. It was larger than anything Eira had imagined. It towered over them, at least twice Cassandra’s height and four times as wide. She shrank back, step by step, as she felt a barrier of cold energy spring up around her. For one horrible moment the demon locked eyes with Eira, if it could be said to have eyes, and then raised a thundering foot to step in her direction. She found herself unable to move, rooted to the ground in fear. She heard Varric call her name, but he sounded a mile away. It all sounded like screaming, horrible screaming, and she shivered in place as the demon took another step forward. Then the screaming became softer, simpler. It wasn’t the combined force of a thousand nails screeching along shale, shattering inside her head. It was Cassandra, yelling as she pitched herself between the Pride demon and Eira. She raised her shield to protect herself as it raked its taloned hand downward, and swung forward with her sword. She moved efficiently, jab and block and swing and block and block and lunge. Her sword didn’t seem to gain any purchase against the demon’s steely skin. A crossbow bolt lodged itself below the kneeplate of the beast, but it seemed unimpressed. </p><p>	“We need a way to strip its defences!” Cassandra yelled, barely deflecting a swipe that left her arm bleeding.</p><p>	“Quickly! Disrupt the rift!” Solas said next to Eira. With that direction, Eira was shaken back to the very present situation. She jumped into a defensive stance, feet splayed apart and staff held in front of her. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she held her hand aloft as she had when closing the rifts. The mark on her hand connected with the rift, but it didn’t feel like pulling. This time it was pulsing, the energy flow erratic. She bent her knees and stiffened her core, trying to stay standing against the forces pushing and pulling, threatening to topple her over.  She brought her other hand to clasp her forearm, attempting to steady it against the violent shaking. Just as it was almost too much, the energy from the rift exploded outward, and the demon roared. Cassandra swung her blade forward, and was rewarded with a spray of dark blood. Eira grabbed back onto her staff with both hands, and flung lightning at the demon. It laughed, and sent a shock back in her direction. She felt the barrier Solas had placed fizzle out, and she was struck backward by the force of the electricity. Her side scraped against the rough stones on the ground as she tumbled backward, like teeth reaching up to swallow her, and she felt blood seeping out of gashes along her side and back. She rolled to the side to avoid another blast, then focused on the ground beneath the demon’s feet. She focused, white hot mana flowing through the earth, and then the ground below the demon erupted into flame. It lost balance, its foot sinking into the molten stone. It turned toward Eira to summon another bolt of lightning when Cassandra lunged forward, plunging her sword deep into the creature’s heart. Thick, stinking blood flowed from the wound, and the creature gurgled, then fell to its knees. It began to fall apart, piece by rotting piece, until it was an unrecognizable heap. Eira didn’t need Solas’s prompting this time. She stepped forward, ignoring the pain in her side, and held out her hand to seal the rift in a flash of green. She heard delighted yells around her as she stumbled forward. She felt her strength draining from her, then fell to her hands and knees. More yelling. Warm. No, cold. Her vision spotted with black, and she felt the blood dripping from the wound at her side. Eira slumped forward as she lost consciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Although the Inquisitor can only be voiced in an British or American accent, I imagine Eira to have an Irish accent.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira meets the leaders of the Inquisition.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira opened her eyes. The room was illuminated by a fire burning in the hearth, giving off a pleasant heat. Eira sat up in the bed, feeling a chill as the blanket fell back and revealed only a thin shift covering her body. She snatched the blanket and held it up to her shoulders, looking around the room for her clothes. There was a chair, currently unoccupied, next to a small table covered in papers, a metal pitcher for water, and a few vials of what were probably medicine. A short stack of fabric was folded by the foot of her bed. The door was closed, but Eira suspected the fire would be tended by someone soon. The room was sparse otherwise, and the sashes of the windows were drawn, probably to keep in the heat. Eira turned her attention to herself. Her pale arms were mottled with yellow and purple, partly-healed bruises that connected with her many cuts to form constellations. She hesitated, then turned over her left hand. Her palm looked slashed, and was angry and swollen. The bright green light had mainly receded, leaving a grey-green fissure gently glowing. She ran her fingers over it. It gave off a faint light, a whisper of what it could become. As she was marvelling at her palm, Eira heard the door creak open and someone walk in. She turned to look.<br/>
“Oh! You’re awake! I didn’t know, I swear,” The elf said. She dropped the firewood she was carrying in surprise. </p><p>“You’re frightened. What happened?” Eira asked. It wasn’t the first time her presence had scared someone, but that someone wasn’t usually another elf.</p><p>“That’s wrong, isn’t it? I said the wrong thing,” the woman said. She fell to her knees and looked down at the ground. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” Eira was taken aback by the fear the woman displayed. Then she remembered her hand. She felt her stomach lurch. What stories had they been telling about her? She began to think, mind spinning possibilities of all the things they may be accusing her of. But no. For the moment, she wasn’t shackled. That meant they must not be holding her prisoner anymore. Or that they thought her so weak she wasn’t a risk. A frown creased Eira’s forehead. The woman began talking again, clearly anxious as the silence stretched on.</p><p>“You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”</p><p>“How long was I asleep? Three days?” Eira asked. Perhaps too loudly or suddenly, judging by the way the servant jumped up in fear. Three days. They must have been waiting for her to wake so they could… what? Put her to trial? Make an example of her? </p><p>“I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’!” The woman continued. Eira began to ask where exactly Cassandra was, or where Haven was, but the woman was already making a swift exit, all but fleeing into the brightness outside. Eira sighed, then pulled the covers off herself and stood. If she was indeed going to face trial, she would at least do it while clothed. She investigated and found that the folded pile of fabric was a simple shirt and pants, in approximately a size to fit her. She pulled them on and began fastening. She pulled the hair from her ragged braid, wishing she had a comb to neaten the dark brown curls. She attempted to pull her hair back into a braid, but the curled ends tangled around one another and pulled. Eira gave up in frustration after a few minutes, and settled for raking her fingers through to eliminate the worst of the knots. She took the tie that she had used for her braid and pulled her hair back behind her head, tying it in a loose cascade down her back. She investigated and found that the pitcher was indeed filled with water. She swished the water through her dry mouth and spat, trying to wash out the taste of sleep. She then poured some water into her hands and splashed it on her face, gasping slightly at the cold. <i>At least now I’m presentable</i>, she thought. For a moment, Eira considered staying and waiting for someone to come collect her, but she didn’t relish the idea of quietly sitting and anticipating her fate. That meant her only option was to leave the warm embrace of her little cottage and go find Cassandra. </p><p>The sun was bright, and reflected in a harsh glare off the snow draped over the ground. Eira shaded her eyes with her hand, and blinked a few times at the brightness. She noticed first how many people were there. A low thrum of voices had greeted her, then a delicate silence as the people noticed her appearance at the door. The crowd quickly parted, leaving a path. Eira walked forward slowly, looking for any hint that the people might close in or attempt to hurt her. They, mostly humans, stared, wide-eyed. Some gasped, one appeared to be crying. They looked… not angry, at least. They gazed at her in hushed silence, then began whispering to one another fervently. Eira shoved the panic back down her throat. They had already seen her, so there was no use in retreating back into the cottage. She held her head high and began to walk forward with slow, measured steps. Eira had learned from the hunters in her clan that showing fear or weakness identified an animal as a target, and she didn’t want to mark herself for slaughter. She caught whispers as she passed. </p><p>“Herald of Andraste”<br/>
“Pulled from the sky”<br/>
“an elf goddess”<br/>
“Maker preserve us”</p><p>Eira focused her eyes ahead, much as she wanted to swing her head wildly to find the sources of the whispers. She guessed they were talking about her, and she guessed it was because of her mark. It seems that closing the rifts had done wonders for her reputation. She had gone from a prisoner to some sort of godly figure, apparently.</p><p>Eira still wasn’t sure where she was going, but the people had cleared and created a path to follow, so she did. The area inside the walls contained a few buildings, some tents, and small groups of people rushing back and forth. Eira scanned for something recognizable. She supposed the building near the back looked largest, so it was probably most important. That’s how <i>shem</i> usually arranged their settlements, anyway. As she walked forward, she saw a familiar face. He was easy to miss, as he was significantly shorter than the humans around him. The dwarf was one of the friendlier people she had met so far. Aside from Solas, she supposed he put her most at ease. Her pace quickened now that she had a destination in mind. Eira caught his eye, and he nodded to her.</p><p>	“Varric,” she said, “I… I’m not really sure what’s going on…” Eira trailed off, not sure how to continue.</p><p>	“Hey kid. Glad to see you awake. You were asleep for a few days, Chuckles wasn’t sure you were going to make it at first.” Varric said. He smiled up at her easily, wide mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. He hooked his thumb into the pocket of his trousers and turned to face her. </p><p>	“Chuckles? No, nevermind that. Um. Cassandra wanted me. Where would I find her?” Eira said, trying to end on a confident note. Varric glanced at her arms wrapped in front of her, hands grasping her upper arms. </p><p>	“Over in the Chantry,” he said, gesturing toward the large building. “You look worried, kid. Don’t be. Cassandra’s all bark and no bite.” Varric laughed softly at his own joke, trying to alleviate the tension.</p><p>	“Thanks. I’d... better go see her then,” Eira said, not truly believing him. She considered asking him more, but decided to press onward before she lost her nerve. She tried to calm her nerves as she approached the Chantry building. Maybe she would be okay. Varric seemed like a decent man. He would probably tell her if she were walking into a situation where she would be killed. She walked up to the large, green doors of the Chantry and strode inside. The hall was dim, lit with hundreds of candles. And very devoid of people. So much for that tip. Eira’s footsteps echoed unnervingly as she strode through the stone hall. She looked around, starting to wonder if she had been wrong to come here willingly, when she heard faint voices from the end of the hall. One was Cassandra, or at least, someone with the same strange accent. Nevarran, she realized. She sounded like the Nevarrans the clan traded with. Eira walked toward the door at the end of the hall. Her stomach was filled with ice. Now that the moment was close, she was terrified. She felt her breath come faster and her heartbeat race. She stopped a few yards away from the door, unable to drag her petulant feet forward. The voices were louder, she could hear several women and a man arguing, but couldn’t make out more than a few words. “Roderick. Chantry. Breach. Apostate. Templars.” Eira’s heart sank. The conversation didn’t seem promising, if she was hoping for her life.</p><p>Just then, the door opened. Cassandra stepped out, and looked just as surprised to catch sight of Eira standing by the door. It took only a moment for her face to return to its usual dark scowl. She looked imperious.<br/>
“Good. You’re here. Come inside, you’ll need to meet the leaders,” she said. Eira found herself being pulled into the room, Cassandra’s hand firm on her arm. Eira gasped at the sudden pressure, reminding her of every bruise, as she stepped into the room. Cassandra closed the door behind her. A large wooden table dominated the space, with a large map in the middle. Eira recognized the Free Marches at the top, where her clan traveled. She was familiar with much of the north, too, having traveled near the borders of Nevarra and Antiva at times. But there was much more, and she found herself transfixed for a moment until she heard a man clearing his throat. Standing behind the table was the soldier she had met at one of the rifts. A broad, tall man still in fur-and-fabric draped armor. He looked down his nose to regard her without warmth, and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Eira looked away from him with a small shudder. She recognized Leliana, standing at the corner of the table, and Cassandra, next to Eira. There was another woman Eira hadn’t met, standing beside the soldier. Eira looked between the humans, searching each face for an indication of her fate. She stepped back reflexively, settling into a wide stance with bent knees. She wanted to be able to run or dodge, if someone lunged toward her.</p><p>“I understand you’re frightened. You’re here as an equal, not a suspect,” Leliana said, reacting to the change in Eira’s body.</p><p>“I have no idea what’s happening here. The last I knew, I was a prisoner. Has that changed?” Eira asked, turning to Cassandra.</p><p>“I heard the Divine call to you for help. Whatever happened, you were not at fault. I believe the Maker sent you to help us,” Cassandra said.</p><p>“You think that your god would send a Dalish elf as a savior?” Eira asked. She was genuinely surprised. She didn’t expect such a ridiculous statement from the serious woman.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter what we believe. It matters that the people believe you were sent by the Maker. They’re calling you the Herald of Andraste,” Leliana said. She looked at Eira, expression soft but not smiling.</p><p>“Rumors that we have not attempted to dissuade, of course,” said the unfamiliar woman. She held a board with ink and pen, and wore a flashy blouse. Eira recognized her accent as Antivan.<br/>
“Who exactly is ‘we’? Your Chantry can’t really be holding me up as a religious figure,” Eira said.</p><p>“They certainly aren’t. Chancellor Roderick was furious when he talked with Cassandra earlier,” the man said, with a slight smile.</p><p>“We have reinstated the Inquisition,” Cassandra said, placing a large tome on the table with a thud. Eira looked at it, then back to Cassandra blankly.</p><p>“You want a holy war,” She said. “The last time my people were involved in something like that, we were expelled from our homes.” She looked at Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides.</p><p>“We are already at war, Herald,” the man said.</p><p>“And you are already involved,” Leliana added.</p><p>“As to whether this war is holy… that depends on what we discover,” Cassandra said. Eira turned away from the expectant faces, and began to pace slowly.</p><p>“So this… Inquisition. It’s not part of the Chantry? You said you reinstated it. What was the first time?” Eira asked, trying to gather information.</p><p>“It preceded the Chantry: People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad,” Leliana said. </p><p>“The Chantry will take time to choose a new Divine, and then wait for guidance. We don’t have time for that,” Cassandra said. </p><p>“We want your help, Lavellan,” Leliana said. Eira was impressed momentarily that she had pronounced her name correctly.</p><p>“To close the rifts, you mean,” Eira said. She turned to face the table, looking up at the others with her palms grounded against the south of Ferelden. She was beginning to understand her place in all of this.</p><p>“Not just that, your worship,” the Antivan woman cut in. “You have become a pivotal figure. Having you as part of our leadership would do much to add to the Inquisition’s legitimacy.” The woman stopped, seeing Eira’s horrified expression.</p><p>“You wouldn’t be alone!” She said, hurriedly. Cassandra and Leliana asked us to help, to advise you. My name is Josephine Montilyet, I am a diplomat. I am here to offer my services to the Inquisition. <i>Andaran Atish'an</i>, Herald Lavellan.” </p><p>“You speak Elven?” Eira said.</p><p>“You’ve heard all of it, I’m afraid,” Josephine responded. She smiled apologetically. Eira smiled back, despite the tumble of thoughts in her head. They wanted her to lead some religious organization as the prophet of a <i>shemlen</i> religion. Theymust be desperate.</p><p>“You know I don’t believe in the Maker. I worship other gods,” Eira said, grasping at one of the many flaws in their plan. No one answered, each looking at each other waiting for someone else to respond. Eira shook her head with a huff of frustration, deciding to change the subject.</p><p>“And who is he, then?” Eira asked, looking up at the blond man.</p><p>“Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the armies of the Inquisition,” Cassandra responded, as Cullen was opening his mouth to answer.</p><p>“And you and Leliana are…?” Eira trailed off.</p><p>“My position here involves a degree of…”</p><p>“Leliana is our spymaster.”</p><p>“Tactfully put, Cassandra,” Leliana said.</p><p>“Those are certainly impressive titles,” Eira said. She looked down at the map on the table, her face creased into a worried frown. </p><p>"Yours is too, <i>Herald of Andraste</i>," Leliana said with a smirk on her face.</p><p>“And what if I refuse to help you?” She asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper as she stared at the Frostback Mountains.</p><p>“We would not force you. If you refuse to help us, we will find another solution,” Cullen said. Eira looked up at him, searching for a threat in his face. His mouth turned down in a slight scowl, stern brown eyes fixed on her. Eira sighed, and her shoulders fell forward. She knew they didn’t have another option. She didn’t enjoy the thought of becoming some false prophet, but she couldn’t deny that she was their best hope of sealing the Breach. Perhaps, if she went along with them, she could have some control of their narrative, some impact on their decisions. Besides, if she didn’t help it would only prove every horrible thing the <i>shemlen</i> said about her people.</p><p>“I want this fixed as much as you all do,” she said after minutes of silence. She gazed down at the lazily pulsing light in her palm, then clenched her hand into a fist. She looked up at them all, her brow heavy and her mouth set firm. “Let’s close this Breach.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ve condensed some scenes, for brevity. Going forward, we will be getting less scripted content!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira shares a quiet moment with Solas.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira walked out of the Chantry hours later. Her advisors had reviewed with her their plans for the fledgling Inquisition. She’d heard an overview of some recent history of the region, and the names of some people who may hurt or help the movement. She was to travel to the Hinterlands, with a small team to assist her. Leliana told her of a Chantry mother who may lend credibility to the cause, and requested that she speak to them. Cullen asked that she find a man named Dennet, who could provide much needed horses for the growing army. Josephine spoke about the tensions in the region between the rebel mages and the Templars, and explained that the Inquisition would need support from one of the groups in order to have enough power to close the breach. It was extremely unlikely that both groups would be willing to work together, so it would almost certainly require choosing between them. Leliana and Cullen began to argue, then, and Eira shrank back until Josephine broke in sternly to remind them all that the decision was to be made later, after they had gathered more information and support. She was surprisingly stern, given her usual upbeat nature. They disbanded, leaving Eira to wander out into the sunshine. She walked slowly, spinning the conversation around in her mind. She absentmindedly brushed snow off a shrub, and watched it tumble to the ground.</p><p>	“<i>Da’len</i>. I see they have released you from your meeting,” a voice said from behind her. She jumped slightly, jarred from her reverie. She turned to find Solas behind her, smirking slightly. His hands were clasped behind his back as he stepped toward her. She smiled. It was comforting to have another elf mage around.</p><p>	“Who’re you calling ‘<i>da’len</i>’? I can’t be that much younger than you,” Eira said, a teasing note in her voice. Solas laughed.</p><p>	“I suppose not,” he said, the small, lopsided smile never leaving his face. “So, how are you feeling? The past few days have been difficult for us.”</p><p>	“I’m alright now. My hand stings a bit, but the rest of my body feels okay,” Eira replied, again regarding the green slash across her palm. “What do you mean, ‘us’?”</p><p>	“It was I who tended you, Lavellan,” Solas replied. “You were quite feverish at first, and you were thrashing in your sleep. Our alchemist Adan helped me to make several medicines for you.” </p><p>	“<i>Ma serannas</i>, again. And I shall have to thank Adan as well,” Eira said. She felt a blush creeping from the tips of her long ears to the thin green <i>vallaslin</i> that laid over her cheekbones like a web. She tried to tell herself it was just embarrassment at the condition she had found herself in. That it had nothing to do with the intensity of Solas’s gaze at her.</p><p>	“Come,” he said, “you must have many questions.” Solas walked away, then, toward the gates of Haven. Eira followed, thankful for the chance to let the burning in her cheeks subside. As they walked, Solas told her of the Fade, and of his theories about the mark on her hand. Eira mostly listened, fascinated. Lore-keeping had been one of her favorite jobs as First of clan Lavellan. As they left the gates, Solas walked them toward the forest. Eira was thankful. It felt more normal, being surrounded by trees. They walked to a clearing, and Solas situated himself on a large, relatively flat rock. He motioned for Eira to sit beside him. He continued on, telling her of what he had observed thus far regarding her mark. Eira began asking questions, a few at a time, and Solas seemed pleased. He was clearly a very intelligent man. He talked about the Fade, about his travels, and about the things he had seen. Eira got the impression she was only hearing the very beginning of it, that his knowledge and experiences had breadth and depth she couldn’t imagine. He deflected questions about himself so skillfully that Eira didn’t notice until the third or fourth time he diverted the conversation to a vision in the Fade or an anecdote carefully selected to omit any concrete details. She supposed it was to be expected, an elven apostate was only safe if he kept to himself.</p><p>They sat together for at least an hour, overlooking the frozen lake. The sun lazily made its way down the sky, a sign of late afternoon in the wintery landscape. Eira felt her mind beginning to wander back to Solas, away from the Fade and spirits and elven history. She regarded him, his face illuminated by the golden sunset. He was deceptively handsome, she decided. His face was almost skeletal, bald as he was, with its jutting cheekbones and sharp chin. But it fell short of gaunt, certainly, with the addition of his full, pink lips. And though he was pale, his cheeks had the slightest hint of color, as did the tips of his long, pointed ears. She was surprised he wasn’t more windburned, given how lightly he dressed. He wore a simple shirt over his lithe body. He didn’t seem bothered by the snow under his cloth-wrapped feet, either. She found herself wondering again where he had spent his life before now. Was it somewhere cold? That would explain why he was comfortable in this weather. Eira worked up her courage and broke the silence that had spread between them. There was one question that had been bothering her since she had first talked with Solas.</p><p>	“You say you’ve met the Dalish, and you didn’t find them… agreeable. Why?” She asked. Solas looked at her, his grey eyes searching hers.</p><p>	“I suppose they were unwilling to listen, Herald Lavellan. I have spent most of my life alone, exploring the culture of our ancestors through the Fade. But the Dalish consider themselves keepers of elven culture and lore. They were not pleased with my attempts to share my knowledge, not when it was disparate from their own beliefs,” Solas said. He spoke slowly and deliberately, watching Eira for her reaction. Eira furrowed her brow.</p><p>	“I wouldn’t have treated you that way. At least, I hope not. The things you’ve told me have been so amazing,” Eira said. She reached out and touched his hand in what she refused to believe was anything other than a friendly gesture. It took all her willpower to keep her gaze locked with his.</p><p>	“And… call me by my name, Eira. Or <i>lethallan</i>,” she added quietly, allowing herself to look away. Solas chuckled softly.</p><p>	“It is difficult to know what you may have done, <i>lethallan</i>. But you do seem more open minded than many of your kin,” he said. He stood up then, and, in one fluid motion, turned and offered his hand, palm outstretched.</p><p>	“We should return before you are missed. I am certain there is much to prepare before our journey to the Hinterlands,” he said. Eira took his hand as she stood up, feeling silly at the same time that her stomach flipped.<br/>
__________________________________________</p><p>The next few days were a rush. Eira found herself highly scheduled, being led around the town by Cassandra or Leliana or Josephine. She met with the quartermaster with Cassandra first, who took measurements and set orders for sets of clothing and armor. Eira had worn leathers before, and was relieved when she was told she wouldn’t be required to wear heavy metal armor like Cassandra. Eira was free to go, finally, after having seemingly every inch of her body measured and recorded. The quartermaster told her and Cassandra to return in two days to pick up their gear. </p><p>Cassandra passed her off to Josephine next, who beckoned her into a makeshift office stacked with papers. She dove into a lesson on the current situation in the Hinterlands, her voice hopping lightly over the words. Eira decided she liked Josephine, after the woman offered her a cup of tea. She sat on a cushioned chair and began asking Josephine questions of her own, about the apostate stronghold in Redcliffe and the likelihood of receiving any Chantry support. Though Eira was unaccustomed to human politics, she traded enough with them to understand who the major players were. She had heard of the Chantry and the recent mage rebellion, and was familiar with the name of their leader, Fiona. Of course she had heard of Templars, too. They were an unspoken threat to Dalish life. They would turn a blind eye to a clan with two, maybe three mages, but more than that and they began to take notice. And they did not do so kindly. Eira wondered then if she would have ended up in this situation if she had not left clan Elohris and become the First of clan Lavellan. She let out a small sigh, and Josephine turned to her from her lesson.</p><p>“Forgive me, Herald. This is likely more information than you require at this time,” she said.</p><p>“No! I enjoy hearing it, Ambassador Montilyet,” Eira said. </p><p>“You were First of your clan. Am I correct that you were responsible for keeping histories and information for the clan?” Josephine asked. Eira’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.</p><p>“The Keeper would be, actually. But I was training to become Keeper one day, so it was something I spent years learning. How did you…”</p><p>“Leliana works fast,” Josephine said. “Forgive me, I did not mean to surprise you, Herald,” she said. Eira regarded her for a moment.</p><p>“As long as my clan is safe, I suppose it doesn’t matter what you know about them,” she said.</p><p>“We have yet to formally make contact, though Leliana believes she has reliable information about their location. I assure you, we mean only to reassure them of your safety,” Josephine said. She looked worried, and spoke even more quickly than usual. Eira suspected she wasn’t supposed to reveal this.</p><p>“I believe you,” Eira said, carefully. “You all know I’d leave if anything happened to them.” She said this lightly, so it almost sounded like a joke.</p><p>“We know, Herald,” Josephine responded. Her tone was not so light.</p><p>They finished their tea and a bell tolled the hour. Josephine jumped.</p><p>“My! It’s later than I thought. The Commander will be wondering where you are!” With that, Eira was hurried out of the Chantry. She rushed out to the training grounds, where Cullen was barking instructions at the soldiers. He turned to her as she approached.</p><p>“Good, you’re here. We had a chance to see you fight before. Do you feel prepared for your first endeavor in the field?” He asked. Before waiting for her answer, he turned and yelled to a recruit behind her, “use your shield! That’s what it’s there for!” Eira jumped at his sudden, loud shout. He frowned, watching the troops.</p><p>“I suppose I’m ready enough,” she replied. He turned back to her, his large frame looming nearly a foot over her. She shrank back instinctively.</p><p>“Take a staff. Let’s see how you can do against some of our soldiers,” he said, gesturing toward a collection of training weapons. “I want you to fight without magic. You won’t always have it to protect you.” He gave her instructions and paired her against a soldier, whose eyes grew wide when she realized her opponent was the fabled Herald of Andraste. Eira had never been particularly good at fighting, but seemed to land hits with ease. Her opponent once grazed a blow across Eira’s side, and then gasped and dropped her wooden sword. Cullen sighed, and pulled her from the line. </p><p>“It seems you’re already known among the troops, Herald,” he said. He shook his head. “I’ll make arrangements when you return.” Eira wished he wouldn’t, honestly. Her magic was proficient enough, and she was a terrible fighter. Cullen and Eira stood in silence. He looked down at a paper brought to him by a messenger, and Eira twirled the end of her braid nervously. He was, definitely, the least approachable of her companions so far. Including Cassandra, who Eira was fairly certain still hated her. She coughed, and he looked back to her. She dismissed herself then, citing a need to discuss the rifts with Solas. She didn’t manage to make it to him, however, before she was accosted by Leliana to review maps of the Hinterlands.</p><p>Dinner, despite her desire for a quiet moment to herself, had evolved into a raucous affair as Cassandra and then Varric joined her at her table in the little tavern. Cassandra had wanted to review their plans for the upcoming journey, and Varric had wanted to heckle Cassandra. Eira found herself siding with Cassandra for perhaps the first time. She was tired, and Varric was very, very loud. Finally, she stumbled back to the cottage that was as close to her home as she would get. It was early in the night, but she was exhausted. She stripped off her outer layers, crawled onto the bed, and promptly fell asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira sends her first report from the field</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Ambassador Montilyet, Commander Rutherford, and <strike>Spyma</strike>    <strike>Nighten </strike>  Leliana,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We have completed our initial scouting in the Hinterlands. Scout Harding met us at the forward camp with her review of the area. We headed to the Crossroads first, as we hoped to assist the refugees. Leliana had warned me that there could be violence in the area, but I didn’t expect it to be so close. The crossroads were overrun when we approached. The Templars were fighting against the rebel mages. I tried to protect the mages, but they clearly didn’t view me as an ally. They probably didn’t know who I was, just a mage they didn’t recognize. It didn’t help that Cassandra attacked the mages fighting there. I thought we could work with them, but she was probably right. They were so angry, so violent. They would have killed me, I suppose, if I had given them a chance. I haven’t killed anyone before, in all honesty. It’s so much harder than I thought. Cassandra says I need to stop holding back, and that I’m putting myself in danger, and Varric says it gets better with time. In the end, we were able to clear the area around the Crossroads. Refugees have heard, and there have been more coming in every day. I suppose it’s a good thing, then. They said the roads have been safer in the past two weeks than since before the rebels moved in.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We met with Mother Giselle. She talked a lot about your Andraste, but didn’t seem to be particularly fond of the Chantry’s leadership. She didn’t say that, really. She only talked about Andraste being a peaceful figure, and that she would have wanted peace between mages and religious leaders. But saying nothing says a lot, and she didn’t say anything about the Chantry’s actions during all of this. (She was surprised I knew as much as I did about Andraste. I may not think she’s a god, but she and Shartan were hugely important figures in the history of my people.) Mother Giselle has agreed to come back to Haven and support our cause. We’re planning to travel back with her on Dennet’s horses, to make sure she arrives safely. Mother Giselle talks to me like I’m some new prophet of your religion. We need to talk about exactly what that means, because if you need me to pretend along with it I’ll need to know a lot more. Though I would rather not need to pretend.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We had more difficulty on our way to see Dennet. If these roads are safer, I don’t want to know what they looked like a month ago. The mages and Templars were both aggressive to us on sight. Varric was burned pretty badly by some of the apostates, but he’s pretending he’s fine. Cassandra’s pretending she doesn’t care, but she keeps asking him how he’s healing. I had a Templar run a sword through my side, and we had to camp for days while Solas did his best to heal it. He says I almost bled out. I’m managing now. Cassandra thinks I need to train to fight, because she can’t keep everyone off me every time. She’s probably right. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We managed to close several rifts on our way to the west of the region. Dennet was very reluctant to help us. He lent me a horse, but he didn’t want to leave his farm and his village behind without protection. I told him we would help erect watchtowers, and that we could provide some soldiers to help keep the area safe. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it, but… Commander Rutherford thought it was very important to get Dennet to provide horses, so I hope it’s acceptable terms for you all.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We also discovered some elven ruins. They probably aren’t as interesting to you all, but Solas thinks they could help to strengthen the Veil. That would mean fewer rifts opening, and safer roads for the people here. I am planning to locate more, if I can. Solas doesn’t seem to think there’s any knowledge of them to be found, but perhaps some scholar has something stuffed in a book somewhere. This kind of thing could help us understand what’s happening, and we really need that.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We’re going to be heading back, but with the horses Dennett provided. It shouldn’t take us as long to return. Cassandra thinks maybe 3 or 4 days as long as my side continues to heal. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>P.S.: We found some kind of cult worshipping… me. They had a rift in the courtyard of their castle, and when I closed it they started praising me as the true Herald. I told their leader she should spread word about the Inquisition. She said she wants to come back to Haven with us, too. Maybe one of you can find a use for her, because I’d really rather not have to be around her much longer. I didn’t think I’d miss being distrusted, but I think I prefer it to worship.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i></i><strike>Sael Eira</strike><br/>
<strike>Herald of Andraste</strike><br/>
Eira Lavellan
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira returns to Haven, and planning begins.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Withdrawal symptoms, vomiting</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen surveyed the troops sparring in the yard before him. Most of them were inexperienced locals, but several were men and women he had worked with at Kirkwall who had followed him to the Inquisition. He and Rylen had done their best to pair the less experienced fighters with those who had seen combat. Rylen had been responsible for most of the hands-on training, really, but Cullen thought it important to make a regular appearance. The soldiers needed to know and trust their commander. He couldn’t devote much time, though. He was often busy meeting with Leliana and Josephine, managing incoming reports, or drafting plans for action. He frowned slightly, remembering the Herald’s report that they had received two days ago. After Josephine had finished admonishing him for his surprise that the Herald was literate-- <i>she was going to be the Keeper of her clan! She would have been responsible for all kinds of trade dealings and record keeping!</i>-- he had begun the process of pulling apart her report with the others. The most alarming, of course, was the report of her grievous injury. Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to allay his growing headache. She would need training, of course. He would have to find a solution, given how poorly the previous sparring attempt had gone. Perhaps Rylen could… no. He seemed nervous at any mention of the Herald. He hadn’t been in Kirkwall during the worst of things, but he had seen the aftermath. Cullen couldn’t blame him for his apprehension around the apostate, not when he was on edge himself. </p><p>As he mulled over his thoughts, Cullen heard the approach of hooves. Coming up the path were four horses. He saw a grim-looking Cassandra riding behind a grinning Varric, then Solas, and finally the Herald. She kept her face still as she surveyed the encampments outside the wall. As they approached, a young man and woman approached to help them dismount and to take their horses. <i>Leliana’s scouts don’t miss anything</i>, Cullen thought to himself with amusement. The Herald got off her horse and winced as her feet hit the ground. She turned suddenly toward Varric, then laughed. He must have made a joke, if Cassanda placing her head in her hands was any indication. The Herald waited until Solas had dismounted, shifted several items from his packs to his pockets, and come to stand beside her before she faced the gates of Haven and proceeded in.<br/>
__________________________</p><p>It wasn’t much later that Cullen readied himself for the meeting in the war room. He unbuckled the straps of his armor. It was important for the troops to recognize him on the field, but it was too cumbersome to wear when he wasn’t engaged with martial training. He loosened and stripped off his vambrace, cowter, rerebrace, pauldron, and, finally, the cuirass. He stretched, enjoying the momentary feeling of weightlessness after removing the metal from his body. It lasted only seconds before he felt the familiar aches in his muscles settle in, as if his very bones were hungry and crying out for just one more dose. He wiped away the pervasive drip of his nose in frustration, then picked up the cloak and mantle he had shed. He settled the maroon drapes back over himself, then drew his shoulders up and back. He would look the part of Commander, no matter what he felt. He ducked out of his tent and strode toward the Chantry and the makeshift war room, wondering if it was at all heretical to use the location for their current purposes. No, he decided. They may be working against the Chantry, but their mission was one that served the Maker. He strode into the room. The first thing he noticed was the scent of strong floral tea. He clenched his jaw as a wave of nausea threatened to upturn the meager amount of food he had managed thus far in the day. He nodded silently to Josephine. She was talking with the Herald, who turned and looked as he entered. He gave her a nod, too, but his mouth remained pressed into a taut frown. He still wasn’t sure that she could be trusted, even if she was their best chance at fixing things.</p><p>“The Herald Lavellan was just telling me about her encounters in the Hinterlands in more detail, Commander,” Josephine said brightly. </p><p>“Just a bit more about the people there, really,” Eira said. She looked reluctant to continue, but Josephine prompted her forward. Sighing, she continued her story about their efforts to supply the refugee camps while they were waiting for the Herald’s side to heal enough to travel. Leliana entered, eerily silent, and Cassandra behind her. The Herald fell silent again. Josephine huffed slightly, disappointed that her attempts to stoke a conversation had failed, then addressed them.</p><p>“Herald Lavellan, your initial work in the Hinterlands appears quite fruitful, judging by your report,” Josephine said.</p><p>“Please. If it’s all the same to you, while we’re here can you call me just Lavellan? It’s been exhausting pretending so much,” the Herald said. </p><p>“Of course, Lavellan. We will lead this discussion with the easiest orders of business, I think, and save the more difficult decisions for last,” Josephine said. Cullen couldn’t understand how she seemed to revel in these things. She was in her element, businesslike and upbeat and confident. Cullen mostly wanted to return to his tent and sleep. But of course, that was the headache. He believed in the Inquisition, and he <i>wanted</i> to make decisions. He was done taking orders without question. He gritted his teeth as Josephine continued.</p><p>“First is Lavellan’s promise of aid to Horsemaster Dennet. Commander, do we currently have the resources to provide?” Josephine asked. Cullen fought to pull the thoughts from his muffled head.</p><p>“We have enough soldiers to station by the farm, given the recruitment numbers our scouts reported. Most will have little training, but should be more than adequate against the remaining bandit threats in the area, now that the Herald has cleared out the worst of the violence,” Cullen said. “As for the watchtowers, we can discuss options. I am confident my men and women could build the towers during their efforts in the area.”</p><p>“We may be able to request aid from local nobility near Redcliffe,” Josephine said. “They would require a small offer, considering their personal stake in the safety of their farmlands.”</p><p>“What do you think, Lavellan?” Leliana asked. The Herald jumped. She looked between them all.</p><p>“You want my opinion?” She asked, warily.</p><p>“You are here to help us. It is important that you feel your opinion is heard,” Leliana answered.</p><p>“I suppose… if I were deciding for my clan, I would have our own people build the towers. Doing it ourselves will make the people feel grateful to us, not their local leaders. And it saves us the expense for a matter we can’t address on our own,” the Herald said. Cullen was surprised. He had seen the Herald scared, injured, and confused up until now. It seemed she could be quite reasonable. That would be an asset.</p><p>“Of course, Herald. I’ll put through the orders,” he responded. She looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected her word to be taken so seriously. </p><p>“You did well with this agreement,” he said. Her face softened, and she looked away. Maker, had he said something wrong? It was so difficult to think while his head was pounding so.</p><p>“Good, that is settled then,” Josephine said. She smiled slightly, and made notes on the board she carried with her. “The next order to discuss is Lavellan’s injury.” At this, the Herald turned to her, an angry look on her face.</p><p>“Surely, my being injured in a fight isn’t an issue for some sort of debate,” she said. Cullen noticed the tips of her long ears grow pink.</p><p>“She is right, Eira,” Cassandra said. Apparently, Cassandra and the Herald were on a first-name basis. “We cannot afford for you to be injured or worse. You will need to be trained.”</p><p>“So, you’ll train me, then?” the Herald asked Cassandra. </p><p>“Perhaps. Leliana and I were discussing the matter. You will train with Solas to hone your magic. You two have become close, it seems, and he is clearly… knowledgeable,” Cassandra finished. Cullen was well aware of Cassandra’s hesitance to trust the man. It was an opinion they shared. The Herald knit her brow.</p><p>“I’ve begun training with Solas already, Cassandra. You know that,” she said.</p><p>“We also think you should practice fighting against Templars. You haven’t encountered any before, and they are trained to fight mages specifically. It would be remiss to leave you unprepared,” Leliana added.</p><p>“We have some former Templars among our ranks. I fear that most will either be unwilling to fight the Herald of Andraste, or will be unwilling to fight an apostate mage,” Cullen said. He was running through a mental list of the former Templars in their army. Most had followed him from Kirkwall. He saw a flash of anger across the Herald’s face, which she quickly smoothed over.</p><p>“We believe you are the best candidate to train her, Cullen,” Cassandra said. Maker’s breath, that’s what they’d been leading up to the whole time. Leliana was skilled. Working with her meant he was always one step away from springing a trap. He glared at the two women, but neither appeared intimidated by his gaze. The Herald, however, was looking intently at the map with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Wonderful. She would think he hated her. He didn’t trust her particularly, but he didn’t hate her.</p><p>“Of course I will,” he said. He forced his voice to remain neutral, but couldn’t force himself to smile. He was going to need to rearrange his entire schedule for this. He sniffed sharply, trying to stop his nose dripping.</p><p>“Wonderful,” Josephine said, seeming unaffected by the stuffy tension that had sprung up. </p><p>“Our last piece of business is to begin discussing our alliances. We will require a great deal of power to close the Breach, according to Solas. Our most promising sources of that power would be through an alliance with the mage rebels in Redcliffe, or with the Templar Order. Their recent troubles with the Chantry means that they may be willing to work with us,” Josephine said.</p><p>“The mages are our best bet. There is a very real possibility that the Templars will side against us,” Leliana said.</p><p>“I disagree. Pouring more magic into this Breach could be catastrophic,” Cullen replied. </p><p>“Working with the Templar Order may increase our legitimacy in the eyes of Thedas. The mage rebellion wouldn’t,” Cassandra said.</p><p>“True, but the mages should not be discounted. Very real tensions led to the rebellion, and we may be able to harness that energy for our movement,” Leliana argued. </p><p>“The group is disorganized at best! We could never hope to keep them in check!” Cullen said, his voice growing into a shout. He remembered all too well what happened when rebels decided to act rashly. The others hushed for a moment, and he cursed softly. He brought the heels of his hands to press against his eyes, bidding his head to stop throbbing. </p><p>“Perhaps you are correct,” Josephine said finally. “As it is, neither group will treat with us. We would like to send Lavellan to Val Royeaux to meet with some remaining Chantry leaders. Meeting with them will establish us as a legitimate party in this conflict.” Josephine looked over as the Herald began to object. “As I understand, Lavellan will require time to fully heal before she can return to the field. This would be a productive use of that time, no?” Josephine raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. </p><p>“I will accompany you,” Cassandra said. </p><p>“Then it is settled. Unless there is further business, we all must begin making arrangements,” Josephine said, scribbling on her board. The others quickly excused themselves, and shuffled out of the room. Cullen remained, closing his eyes and gripping the sides of the table. He just needed a moment to compose himself before he left. He inhaled sharply as the pain in his head reached what he expected would be its peak, and felt sweat prickle along his forehead as he fought a fresh wave of nausea. Maker, it had been nearly two weeks since his last dose, but his symptoms were barely improving. </p><p>“Commander Rutherford, are you... okay?” the Herald asked. <i>Fuck, she was still here?</i> He opened his eyes and tried to smile, instead managing a sort of grimace.</p><p>“Of course, Herald. Just a headache.”</p><p>“Well… em… if you need anything…”</p><p>“No, thank you. We can begin training tomorrow.”</p><p>“Alright,” she replied. She looked at him once more before turning to leave. Cullen groaned. The last thing he needed was for her to complicate things. He felt the familiar lurch in the back of his throat, hastily located a basin, and vomited.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira spends time getting to know some of her companions before Val Royeaux.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira walked toward the training grounds outside of Haven, stepping briskly and pulling her coat tighter against the cold wind. She had been finishing another meeting with Josephine when the messenger came to request her. <i>This is definitely a downgrade from tea with Josephine</i> she thought glumly. She was beginning to truly enjoy Josephine’s company, despite her penchant for frills and lace. She enjoyed the comfort of sitting in her makeshift study, learning as much as she could about the political history of the Chantry and the mage rebellion. Josephine was fascinated with elven history, and particularly enjoyed hearing stories about the settlement of the Dales. They compared Eira’s Dalish histories against the Andrastian teachings, and debated at the truth. It was comforting, sharing her history with someone. It wasn’t anything like <i>Arlathvhen</i>, and it was different still from talking with <i>Hahren</i> Ellanas to compare the histories told from clan Ariss and clan Lavellan. But it was still a familiar act, and Eira sank into it gladly.</p><p>Now, however, she approached the soldiers sparring, Commander Rutherford surveying their progress. She called his name as she approached, and he turned. His face remained cold, to Eira’s frustration. She didn’t need to gossip over tea with him, but she hated being held at arm’s length. <i>He could try at least a little bit to hide his disliking me</i>, she thought. </p><p>“Good, you’re here. It may be best if we train away from an audience. Please, follow me, Herald.”</p><p>“I prefer Lavellan. <i>Please</i>,” Eira said, frustration evident in her tone. He looked at her then, eyebrows raised, then nodded. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her request yesterday. He had seemed distracted.</p><p>“Of course, Lavellan,” he said. Eira winced as he mispronounced her name. Luh-VEL-len. The stress on the completely wrong syllable, and the vowels all distorted. She decided not to correct him. It wouldn’t win her any friendship to be critical, and this man was going to be difficult to win over. The two walked a short distance to a small clearing in the trees. Eira saw a pair of wooden swords and shields.</p><p>“So. Hera-- Lavellan,” Commander Rutherford said, turning to face her. “You do not have formal martial training, correct?”</p><p>“Other than learning to hunt? No. Unless you count learning magic, but I’m guessing you don’t want me using magic right now,” she said. </p><p>“No, we need you to have the ability to physically protect yourself, if your spells should fail.” Commander Rutherford handed her a wooden shield and sword. She was surprised by the weight of the shield in particular. The Commander picked up the other wooden set with ease. <i>They must be much lighter than what he’s used to</i>, she thought.</p><p>“We may do more work later with staff fighting, but for now, I want you to learn how your enemy thinks. The best way for you to protect yourself will be to predict what your adversary is going to do. I’m going to teach you the basics of shield fighting, as that’s how most Templars are trained.”</p><p>“Alright, I suppose.” Eira looked up at the Commander. He was a full foot taller than her, and probably weighed twice as much. With the addition of his armor and his cloak, he was an imposing figure. She was less than subtle in assessing him, and his cheeks grew pink. He turned his head and wiped his nose. </p><p>“I won’t… you… ah… I’m going to teach you some forms first. We won’t be sparring just yet.”</p><p>“I admit I’m relieved. I don’t think I would stand much chance against you,” Eira laughed. Commander Rutherford chuckled, and smiled back at her. Good. It was a start.</p><p>“I’m not so sure about that. You’ve surprised us before.” They began, then, with basic grip and stance. Eira had never held a sword before, and the Commander had to physically move her limbs to get her in the right position. He was surprisingly gentle as he used his foot to push her legs into a wider stance, and guided her shoulders to square as she moved between a high, middle, and tall guard. He demonstrated each guard, and showed her the five basic strikes. He stood as her target as he explained to her targeting, and she practiced swinging forward and hitting him across his helmet, in his sword arm, and across his leading leg. Eira began to breathe heavily, as she shuffled her feet as the Commander had shown her. She wasn’t used to such exacting movements, and her arms ached from holding up her sword and shield. Finally, As she was considering swallowing her pride and asking for a break, he pronounced their work finished for the day. He wiped sweat from his own brow, though he didn’t appear winded. </p><p>“You’ve done well,” he said. His face had relaxed during their practice, and he looked at her consistently as he spoke. The time spent in a familiar activity had put him at ease. They walked back toward Haven, snow crunching underfoot.</p><p>“I appreciate your teaching me.”</p><p>“Of course. Your safety is important to the Inquisition.”</p><p>“Commander Rutherford?” She asked, stopping to look at him. “I know I’m not what you wanted for your Inquisition. I… Thank you for trusting me.” She looked up at him, face hopeful. Deshanna had always told her it was better to thank someone than to ask forgiveness. <i>They work harder to be whatever you’re saying they are once their ego is involved</i>.</p><p>“You’ve given people hope. I cannot find fault with that,” he said. They stood there, looking at one another, until he rubbed the back of his neck and motioned them forward. They walked back in silence. </p><p>________________________</p><p>Eira sat by the fire at the roadside camp. They had completed their first day of travel on their way to Val Royeaux. She leaned forward to add wood to the fire, and groaned. She was sore from her practices with Commander Rutherford over the past three days. He had begun to spar against her. Even though he was holding back, she was beginning to sport bruises along her arm. She stretched her arm back and winced at the tightness in her shoulder.</p><p>“<i>I see your training with the Commander has been challenging</i>,” Solas said in Elvhen. He took a seat beside her, watching the fire begin to consume its new fuel.</p><p>“<i>Don’t tease me, lethallin. I’m not used to fighting so physically.</i>” Eira responded in turn.</p><p>“<i>Judging by our trainings, lethallan, you are unaccustomed to fighting in any capacity.</i>” He wore a small grin, and his eyes were mischievous.</p><p>“<i>You wound me, Solas! You think I’m that bad</i>?” Eira asked, draping a hand across her forehead dramatically and feigning sorrow. She had enjoyed her conversations over the past few days. He had stopped doting, now that her wound was nearly healed, and he spent more time talking with Eira. She had taken to teasing with him, seeing how long he would entertain her jest before he settled back into his serious demeanor.</p><p>“<i>If that is enough to wound you, perhaps you should have conversational training with</i> Ambassador Montilyet.”</p><p>“<i>I would hold my own against her, thank you very much. I’ve actually taught her a great deal about elven history.</i></p><p>“<i>I am surprised she shares your interest,</i>” Solas said. <i>There it is, he’s serious again</i>, she thought.</p><p>“<i>She’s not horrible, just because she’s a shemlen</i>.”</p><p>“<i>I do not presume she is a bad person. Just that humans usually seek to understand us when they want to use us. Like they do now, lethallan</i>.”</p><p>“<i>You’re worried the</i> Inquisition <i>is using me</i>?”</p><p>“<i>You are not</i>?”</p><p>“<i>Obviously I am, because obviously they are. I’m more surprised that you’re concerned.</i>”</p><p>“<i>Why should it be surprising? We are friends, are we not?</i>” Solas said. He looked at Eira, brow raised in amusement. She felt her cheeks flush, and turned to face the fire. The flames had died down into glowing embers. Eira focused on them, waving her fingers as she fed mana forward. Yellow tongues of flame shot upward, and showered sparks into the night sky.</p><p>“<i>Where were you from, before all this?</i>” Solas asked, breaking the silence.</p><p>“<i>Clan Lavellan traveled mainly around the</i> Free Marches. <i>We used to stay near the south shore, but after everything happened in</i> Kirkwall, <i>Deshanna and I thought it was safer to stay further north, near</i> Antiva.”</p><p>“<i>Did you enjoy growing up with your clan</i>?”</p><p>“<i>I didn’t grow up in clan Lavellan. I grew up west of the Dales. Clan Ariss had a Keeper, first, and second, and then my cousin and myself started showing signs of magic. Darragh was worried we would attract too much notice. I joined clan Lavellan when I was 15.</i>”</p><p>“<i>That is young to leave one’s family</i>.”</p><p>“<i>It was the best choice to help them. They wouldn’t have been safe if I had stayed. I had known for a long time that I would become a leader for my people. And I knew that being a leader means you have to give things up.</i>” Eira shrugged. “<i>It’s like the </i> Inquisition<i>. I can’t change that it’s happened to me. The best thing I can do is to make it my own, as much as I can.</i>” Solas reached his hand out and grabbed hers. Her marked palm pressed downward onto the log where she sat, and his palm rested over her knuckles. He tucked his fingertips gently between her thumb and her palm, wrapping them lightly around her hand. She was surprised at the warmth of his slender fingers. She wasn’t sure why, but she always expected his hands would be cold. A shiver ran up her back, despite the warmth of the fire.</p><p>“<i>You cannot change that you are involved with this. But do not become a tool for them to wield,</i>” he said. Eira turned to face him, her eyes bouncing back and forth between his.</p><p>“<i>I won’t</i>,” she whispered. </p><p>“<i>Good.</i>” Solas stared into her eyes, and Eira bit her lip without thinking. His eyes darted downward at the motion, and her breath caught. He stood up then, releasing her hand.</p><p>“You should rest, <i>lethallan</i>. We will begin travelling early tomorrow morning.” With that, he left, walking toward his tent. Eira sat, frozen. Her heart was racing. She wanted to savor it for just a moment longer, to feel electricity of his hand on hers, the rush of his blue eyes fixed on her. Her breath steadied after a few minutes, and she extinguished the fire and laid herself in her tent. She pulled her fingers through her braid, unspooling the hair into long brown waves. For the first time, despite her exhaustion, Eira had difficulty falling asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira sends her report from Val Royeaux</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i><strike>Ambassador M</strike> Josephine, Leliana, and Commander Rutherford,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Things in Val Royeaux did not go well. The Chantry did expect us, and they had less-than-kind things to say about me. It’s honestly getting tiring, having to pretend I’m proud of this title you want me to use. Josephine, I hope you appreciate my restraint. When that Chantry mother said it was impossible that her Maker sent an elf mage as savior, I did not agree with her. And when she called me a murderer, I did not swear at her in Elvhen. I tried to tell her that there were bigger problems to worry about, but… Some Templar came up and punched her. It was a good one, too, she crumpled right to the ground. I wish I were more surprised, but given all the stories I’ve been told of Templars as a violent sort, this kind of outburst seems to fit. I will admit that it was immensely satisfying, but still. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cassandra said he was Lord Seeker Lucius. She says that’s not the same as a Templar, but he seemed to be working with them. Or rather, they were taking orders from him. He said the Templars were officially withdrawing from the Chantry, and he had some speech about grievances that was a bit lost to me, I’m afraid. Cassandra will be able to explain better than me. He said they were going to go hide away in some old fortress. <strike>Therfall? Thernall Doubt?</strike>. I can’t remember. I’m sure Commander Rutherford understands what I’m trying to say, though.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cassandra swore up and down that the Lord Seeker wasn’t himself. She says he was behaving unusually, that’s he’s not usually erratic and aggressive. I hope she’s right. To be blunt, I don’t relish the idea of working with anyone who calls him their leader, and that includes you all.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>As we were leaving Grand Enchanter Fiona found us. She was very polite, for someone leading a group you’ve described as dangerous, unstable rebels. She invited us to come meet with her at Redcliffe. She says she wants an alliance between our groups. I'm going to take her offer. From everything I've just seen, they are much more willing to work with me, and with us.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira Lavellan</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_____________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Josephine,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Val Royeaux was… everything you warned me. Well, I suppose you weren’t meaning your descriptions as a warning. The people here are strange. I don’t see why they require so many layers of dress. It can’t be practical to have your skirts puffed two feet out from your body! And the men all had these odd hats, like they were growing massive horns off the side of their heads. I know that humans in cities live a very different life from the Dalish, but this seems ridiculous. Never mind climbing a tree or navigating a hunting path, I’m not sure these people could walk on an unpaved road in their ridiculous shoes! After everything with the Chantry mother and the Templars calmed down, we did stay in the city for a night. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Varric went shopping with me, of all people! He said you were right about me needing to look the part if I wanted to be taken seriously. He also said he’s not afraid to give advice to the holy Herald, so I should take him with me. Apparently, he doesn’t trust my taste. It ended up being almost enjoyable. Varric thought it was funny to have me put in frothy skirts. It actually was funny, watching him imitate my disgusted faces! We did manage to find a decent enough set, though it’s men’s clothing, sorry Josie. Linen breeches to below my knee, tall leather boots, a blue shirt, and a wool vest. I got something impractical, too, a white silk scarf. Silk is so soft, Josephine! I mean, you already knew that, but still. I hope you’re proud of me. Varric says I look very handsome, so I suppose I’ll be less of an embarrassment when I go to meetings on behalf of the Inquisition.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>You were right about the pastries, too, though I think they’d taste better made with halla butter. I wanted to bring you some, but I think they’d go stale. I won't be back before we head to Redcliffe. I hope it goes well, I'll do my best to negotiate as hard as you would.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira and her team have a meeting in Redcliffe</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas were back in the Hinterlands. They had traveled first to Lake Luthias, where Leliana’s scouts reported a Grey Warden was living. The Wardens had been disappearing, Leliana had explained, and she was worried. Plus, they were an influential group, and having one of them within the Inquisition ranks would be beneficial. The group had found the man at a lakeside cottage, training what looked like local youth, perhaps refugees. Eira felt a bit guilty that their arrival seemed to provoke the local bandits to attack, but Blackwall seemed unperturbed. The youth he had been training fared well, and he sent them off to their homes to help defend their families. Blackwall himself was a formidable fighter. He seemed kind, but was certainly the gruff, quiet type. Still, he had agreed to join them. Eira sent him to their camp to make arrangements. She would write back to Leliana in her report, even though Leliana would likely already know somehow.</p>
<p>With that mission finished, the team’s next destination was Redcliffe. Eira was nervous, admittedly. Cassandra looked unflappable as ever, and Varric kept up a steady stream of stories from his Kirkwall days. He looked over at Eira during his tales, and she suspected he was trying to take her mind off the negotiations as they traveled up the path. She was surprised to hear that Varric was personally acquainted with the man who had blown up the Kirkwall chantry. She didn’t know much about the situation, but it had been so destabilizing in the region that her clan had dramatically altered their travel patterns for the next three years. The southern shore of the Free Marches had been crawling with Templars out for blood. Eira supposed she would need to speak with Varric more. Josephine knew much about history and diplomatic relations, but she wasn’t well informed about the most recent years in the conflict between the mages and the Templars. She knew the basic events, sure, but if Varric had known the abomination himself, surely he had more insight than he let on.</p>
<p>Soon enough, the group sighted the walls of Redcliffe. Eira heard the familiar scraping clash as a rift ahead of the gates bled out the all-too-familiar flashes of light, which coalesced into the shapes of demons. </p>
<p>“Let’s go!” Eira shouted, grabbing her staff. Cassandra needed no further encouraging, and she ran forward with her sword and shield readied. Varric expertly hopped up to the top of an outcropping of rock, and began loading a bolt into his crossbow. Solas stepped closer to Eira, and she felt the cold tingle of a protective barrier over them both. Eira sent a shock of lightning ahead, which jumped and arced between the three demons that had converged on Cassandra. They were paralyzed for a moment, electricity reverberating through their bodies, and Eira took the chance to rip raw energy up from the ground, exploding fire beneath the demons. One froze in place, an icy statue writhing in pain. Another reeled backward from the chaos as a bolt lodged right in what could be called its forehead. Eira had only a moment to take it in before she felt claws raking across her shoulder. She cried out, feeling the demon’s talons cut through the protective barrier and slice into her flesh. Warm, wet blood pulsed from the gash immediately, soaking down her arm in rivulets. She and Solas had planned for this, in their days of training. She didn’t need to look to him to know that he would get himself to safety. She reached her mana outward, tugging at the threads that held the veil together, inhaled sharply, and then twisted hard as she pushed herself forward in a mad dash. As she ran, she thrust herself into a sort of half-space. Her body was mostly outside of the physical realm, for the briefest of moments, but she could still feel the drag of the demon’s body as she passed through. Frost sprouted on her skin as she ran, the coldness of her empty, half-created space burning as she compressed the physical length and stepped through. Then, quickly as she had begun, she was free. The strings of reality closed behind her with an audible snap, and she immediately spun to face the combat. She had appeared, fully solid and already damp with icemelt, on the other side of the combat, some 30 yards away. The demon turned to look at her. It must have been particularly stupid, because it’s realization was a seconds-long process. It turned sluggishly, too, as if it were in slow motion. Eira readied a bolt of lightning, then realized her companions were fighting too slowly as well. Cassandra’s sword traveled lazily through the air, as if the woman were play fighting a child. She heard a yell, but it was so elongated and warped that it was incomprehensible. Eira shot her bolt of energy at the demon that had attacked her, and was dumbfounded as she saw it slowly shoot downward, branches of electricity forming like ice crystals. A bolt flew through the air like an insect and pressed itself into the side of a demon an entire five seconds later. As Eira was raking through her mind for an explanation, she felt a lurch inside her, and the others sped up. Their movements became faster, faster, and faster still, until Eira could barely track them. They rushed, blurred with speed. Cassandra cut down the remaining demon with a barely-visible slash of her sword, and Varric walked over, taking small steps at an absurdly rapid pace. Eira felt a hand seize her, and a forceful pull sent her toppling to her side. Solas had perhaps pulled her too hard, as she lost her balance completely and tumbled onto him. They both fell to the ground, limbs tangled. Eira’s head spun, and it took two unsuccessful attempts before she could right herself. She couldn’t seem to coordinate her limbs, with her legs pushing before her hands were in place to brace her. Finally, she stood with Solas’s help. She closed her eyes to shut out any more visual confusion, and mentally scanned her body. Except for her shoulder, everything should be in order. </p>
<p>“Eira, the rift!” Cassandra yelled. Eira’s eyes snapped back open. To her relief, everything moved as it should. She reached up and pulled the rift closed. She felt her limb begin to shake. Solas stood before her, placing his hands on her upper arms. His grasp was firm, fingertips pressing into her protective leather. He regarded her for a brief moment, then fixed his eyes on hers. </p>
<p>“<i>Lethallan, is the magic still affecting you</i>?” he asked. His brow was furrowed in concern.</p>
<p>“We don’t all speak Elvhen, Chuckles. Cassandra and I want to hear what you think happened to Sparky there,” Varric said. Solas’s expression darkened for a moment, then his face returned to neutral as he relaxed his grip. Eira was too dazed to voice her usual protest against the nickname Varric has assigned her.</p>
<p>“I cannot be sure. Magic that alters the flow of time is not common, or well understood. It seems to have been connected to the rift. We should be careful,” he said. Solas looked only at Eira as he spoke. She managed a small smile.</p>
<p>“I think I’m okay, <i>lethallin</i>,” she said, gently lifting her hand to his, still resting on her arms. She gasped as she touched his hand, realizing it was slick with blood. Her blood, she realized. She was still bleeding from her shoulder. She removed her hunting coat and Solas examined her wound, then called forth mana to knit her skin together. She grimaced at the sudden cold and pain. As he worked, Eira asked him questions about magics to alter time. She had never learned such things. She wondered, darkly, if it was some form of blood magic. Cassandra, meanwhile, cleaned her sword and armor as well as she could, and Varric picked through the remnants of the fight, looking for anything that could be valuable for the creature researcher back in Haven. After several minutes, Solas finished and Eira shrugged back into her leathers, gingerly moving her shoulder through the armscye.</p>
<p>“I guess we should go in,” Eira said to her team. They walked behind her as she approached the doors.</p>
<p>_________________________</p>
<p>For the site of a rebellion, Redcliffe was surprisingly calm inside. <i>That’s probably what someone would think when they came to visit the Inquisition</i>, Eira thought. They had made their way to the center of town, then toward the tavern, where they were directed when they asked after Fiona. They had to ask several people, in fact, and most were surprised by the presence of the Inquisition. </p>
<p>“I find it tiresome to be invited and then ignored,” Cassandra said. </p>
<p>“It does seem strange,” Varric said. </p>
<p>“Let’s just get to the Gull and Lantern,” Eira said. “Perhaps they were thrown off by the rift right outside their gate.” But she couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong. They continued on. Eira tried to project confidence as she approached the tavern and threw open the doors. She quickly spied Fiona, and strode to her table. The Grand Enchanter looked surprised.</p>
<p>“Ah, welcome. You must be agents from the Inquisition,” Fiona said, surveying their surcotes emblazoned with the Inquisition’s eye, “what brings you to Redcliffe?” Eira stared at her, lost for words. She fought the urge to look back to Cassandra or Varric for help. She needed to look like a leader.</p>
<p>“You invited us.” </p>
<p>“I think I would recall that, you must be mistaken, miss…?” Fiona said.</p>
<p>“Lavellan. The Herald of Andraste.” </p>
<p>“Ah, so we finally meet. It is an honor, Herald. I will admit, I had not believed the rumors that you were an elf. I didn’t expect the humans would have held up an elven mage as their savior.”</p>
<p>“We have met! At Val Royeaux!” Eira yelled. She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, “is this some sort of game? What are you playing at, Fiona?” Fiona looked at her, brow creased.</p>
<p>“I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the conclave, Herald,” she said. Eira sighed. She wasn’t making any progress in this conversation, and she wasn’t going to if she kept chasing Fiona around the same lie. Unless it wasn’t a lie? Could someone have been impersonating her somehow? Either way, it was a distraction from her goal.</p>
<p>“Well. Invited or not, we’ve come to treat with you. I think we could work together well. Shall we begin negotiations?” Eira said, sitting down at the table with Fiona. Fiona got up suddenly, eyes wide with fear.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid that decision is not mine to make. I no longer have that authority.”</p>
<p>“What? Then who--” Eira began. A door at the side of the room opened, then, and two men walked in. They wore strange clothing, dyed in impossibly bright red and yellow. Eira didn’t recognize the metals of their decorative clasps. The older man strode over, confident. Eira got up from her seat, and looked back quickly at her companions. If any of them recognized the men, they didn’t show it on their faces.</p>
<p>“Welcome, my friends. I apologize for not greeting you earlier,” the older man said.</p>
<p>“Herald, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius,” Fiona said.</p>
<p>“So you are the survivor? The one from the Fade? Interesting,” Alexius said. He smiled, his eyes travelling over Eira’s body. He paused on her hand, and again at her ears. </p>
<p>“You’re  from… the Tevinter Imperium,” Eira said. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. <i>Better that than to snarl at him</i>. </p>
<p>“When the conclave was destroyed, these poor people,” Alexius said, gesturing at Fiona, “were victims of the brutality of the Templars. Something I’m sure you’re well familiar with, Herald?” He said, looking at the staff she carried. “It could only have been through divine providence that I arrived when I did.” Alexius turned to face Fiona once again.</p>
<p>“It was certainly… very timely,” she said, averting her eyes.</p>
<p>“Our southern brethren here will be under my protection and guidance. They must work for a period of ten years before they gain the full rights of a citizen of the Imperium. I am sure that they shall one day prove to be productive members of our Legion.”</p>
<p>“You said not all would be military! There are children, elderly--” Fiona said, a look of shock on her face.</p>
<p>“And when their debts are paid, they shall do as they please,” he replied, face hardening. Eira balled her hands into fists, fingernails digging into her palms painfully. She focused on that pain, sharp and biting, keeping herself grounded as rage and fear built inside her. She clenched her jaw, and ground her teeth together. </p>
<p>“Please, let us talk,” Alexius said, motioning to the table as he sat. His voice was cool and smooth. “Felix, send for my scribe, please.” The younger man turned to speak with several others who had entered the room, dressed less richly but still in what Eira now assumed to be Tevinter fashion.</p>
<p>“I am not surprised you’re here. Containing the Breach is a feat few could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.” Alexius leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling. Eira remained standing, muscles tense.</p>
<p>“You’re a long way from Tevinter, <i>Magister</i>,” she said. Drips of poison leaked into her voice, despite her best efforts.</p>
<p>“And you, Herald Lavellan, are no Fereldan. It seems we are both far from home,” Alexius said with a wink. Eira felt the tips of her ears flush red with anger. Hearing her name in the mouth of a Tevinter Magister… she wanted to scream, to hit him, to smash her staff into that smug mouth of his and ruin his pretty face. Felix returned then, approaching their table.</p>
<p>“Forgive me. This is my son Felix,” Alexius said. Felix walked forward, toward Eira, who willed herself to be still despite the twitch in her legs that told her to run. Felix leaned forward in a bow, and lost his balance, faltering forward into an alarmed Eira. She put up her arms instinctively to catch him, then dropped him in disgust as she realized what she had done. As he fell, he clasped her hand. Her fingers curled around a small, folded paper. Alexius was immediately changed. Gone was his slick bravado, and instead he looked at his son with worry on his face. </p>
<p>“My lady, please forgive my clumsiness,” Felix said, clutching his side.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” Alexius asked him, voice soft.</p>
<p>“I’m fine, father,” Felix said.</p>
<p>“Come, I’ll get your powders. Fiona, I require assistance back at the castle,” Alexius said. He began walking out of the room, his arm around his son’s shoulders. Before he exited, he turned to Eira and her party.</p>
<p>“I shall send word to the Inquisition. We can continue our business at a later date,” he said, his voice again dripping with sickly charm. With that, he and his son left the room. They were quickly followed by Fiona and their retinue. Eira bowed her shoulders forward, and placed her head in her shaking hands. She felt Solas’s hand on her shoulder as she drew ragged breaths. <i>Slavers. Fiona had sold the mages to slavers. And if I make a deal with them, will I be next?</i> After the minutes passed by, Eira took a decisive breath and drew her shoulders back. She would not fall apart. She was a <i>leader</i>. She unwrapped the folded paper, still held fast against her scarred palm.</p>
<p>
  <i>Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira meets Dorian Pavus</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Varric argued the hardest in favor of going to the Chantry. Cassandra said it was a trap, and they would be foolish to spring it. Solas felt it would be prudent to gather as much information as possible about the involvement of the Tevinter magisters, and this could be an opportunity. Eira agreed with him reluctantly, despite her growing sense of foreboding. She wanted to run, to hide. To crawl away and never have to look at this stupid gash along her hand. She wanted to be back in the Free Marches with her clan, learning history and magic and leading them away from dangers. Instead, she was under the greedy gaze of a Tevinter magister. She knew all too well her people’s history as slaves in Tevinter. And maybe, if it were only history, she could swallow her pride and her fear and her anger and she could work with them for the greater good. But the practice was alive and well. She couldn’t fathom why Fiona had done what she did.</p>
<p>The group reached the Chantry. Inside was another magister, if his skull-topped staff was any indication. He seemed to be fighting several demons that had spawned from an angry green rift near the ceiling. </p>
<p>“Good, you’re finally here. Mind giving me a hand with this?” the magister said cheerfully, despite his preoccupation with hurling spells around himself to keep the demons at bay. For the moment, at least, Eira could tolerate fighting alongside him.</p>
<p>“Alright!” she yelled, waving her team forward. She and Solas stepped into position together, cool barrier sliding over them. Cassandra rushed to aid the magister, slowing as she reached the demons. She raised her shield in excruciatingly slowly to bash against them, and they seemed somehow unable to move their bodies away from the incoming blow. They were thrust backward, tumbling in midair at half-speed, defying all sense and gravity as they lazily scattered backward and then finally to the floor. Varric traded blows with a despair demon across the room, neither of whom appeared to be moving abnormally. As Cassandra pushed the demons inward to the center of the Chantry, Eira arced her lightning into a cage. They scrabbled and railed against their prison, but the energy shot them inward every time they tried. Solas followed her lead then, drawing his staff upon the floor in a series of complicated lines. The lines manifested not at his feet, but in the center of her static cage. Each demon pulled back into the center was frozen, encased in ice as they triggered Solas’s runes. Cassandra went to cut down the despair demon, the only one still mobile. Eira stunned it with a particularly strong bolt, and saw that the magister was hurling spells of his own. Rather quickly, in fact, as if his whole body were moving at twice the speed of everyone else’s. <i>Just like I was, before</i>, she thought. It was quick work to dispatch the remaining demons, frozen as they were. Eira stood beneath the rift, raised her hand, and sealed it. The magister walked toward her.</p>
<p>“Fascinating. How does that work, exactly?” he asked, smirking. He had tanned skin, dark eyes, dark hair, and a waxed and curled mustache above his lip. Eira yanked her hand back and held it protectively against her chest, scowling at the man.</p>
<p>“You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.” </p>
<p>“Why did you bring us here?” Cassandra asked. Eira noticed the woman had not put away her sword. </p>
<p>“Ah, getting ahead of myself, I see. I am Dorian Pavus, most recently of House Minrathous. How do you do?” Dorian spoke smoothly, with a twinkle of humor in his eye. Eira hated it.</p>
<p>“The pretty ones are always trouble,” Varric said, still holding Bianca in his hands.</p>
<p>“Such suspicious friends you have,” Dorian said. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance will be valuable, as I’m sure you can imagine.”</p>
<p>“Why would we need help from a magister?” Eira said, not bothering to conceal her distrust.</p>
<p>“All right, let’s say this once. I am a mage from Tevinter, but I’m not a member of the Magisterium. You Southerners use the terms interchangeably, but honestly it makes you sound like rubes.” He looked at them, Eria still glaring. “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even if I hadn’t sent you that note. Let’s begin with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes?” Dorian began to walk, giving the impression he was performing a monologue in a play. “To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.” </p>
<p>“That’s fascinating, if true. And certainly dangerous,” Solas said. Eira wheeled around to glare at him instead. He wasn’t supposed to be talking with the enemy, and certainly not calling their magic “fascinating”.</p>
<p>“You’ve noticed the way the rifts near here distort time around them, speeding some things up, slowing others down. There will be more like it, soon, and they’ll spread farther and farther from here. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable.”</p>
<p>“Why should I trust anything you say?” Eira said. She had released her staff from her ready position, and stood now with her arms crossed over her chest. If this had been a trap, Dorian wouldn’t still be talking. </p>
<p>“I know what I’m talking about, I helped develop this magic!” Dorian huffed. “Alexius could never get this to work while I was still his apprentice, it was purely theoretical. I don’t understand how he’s gotten it to work now, and I certainly can’t fathom why he would do something so dangerous just to gain a few hundred lackeys.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t do it for them,” Felix said as he approached the group. Dorian smiled.</p>
<p>“Took you long enough. Is he getting suspicious?”</p>
<p>“No, but I shouldn’t have feigned ill. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day,” Felix said. Dorian clapped him on the arm in a warm gesture. Felix turned then to face Eira and her companions. “My father’s joined a cult of Tevinter supremacists, call themselves ‘Venatori’. Whatever he’s done for them, he did it to get to you,” Felix said, pointing to Eira. Her brows shot up in surprise. </p>
<p>“Me? That seems even less believable than ripping apart time to steal the mages from me!” </p>
<p>“They’re obsessed with you, I don’t know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”</p>
<p>“You <i>can</i> close the rifts. Perhaps there’s a connection, or they see you as a particular threat because of it…” Dorian said. Eira felt the anger drain out of her, leaving only a gnawing fear in her stomach. There was nothing good about a group of Tevinter supremacist mages hunting an elf.</p>
<p>“If the Venatori are involved with the Breach in the sky, they’re even worse than I thought,” Felix said. He looked down at his hands and sighed. </p>
<p>“If he’s your father, why are you telling us all this? I thought family and bloodlines were important in Tevinter,” Varric said.</p>
<p>“For the same reasons Dorian is working against him. I love my father, and my country. But all this… cults, altering time… what he’s doing is madness. You’ve got to stop him, for his own sake,” Felix said, turning to Eira again. His voice became desperate, at the end. She felt a stab of sympathy for him, despite herself. </p>
<p>“We already have a Breach in the sky. The last thing we need right now is for time to rip apart,” Dorian added.</p>
<p>“So. If he can control time, how do I stop him?” Eira asked.</p>
<p>“You know you’re his target. That’ll be the first step in turning his trap to your advantage. As for me, I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I’d like to be there. I’ll be in touch,” Dorian said. He smirked, winked at Eira, and walked out of the Chantry. </p>
<p>_______________________</p>
<p>Eira had stormed out of the Chantry, leaving her companions trailing after her in an attempt to calm her down. Cassandra had tried to talk to her, telling her to stop so they could discuss things, but Eira snapped and yelled at her. Varric broke them up, urging Cassandra to leave it be. Honestly, the Seeker meant well, but she had all the tact of a druffalo. She seemed strangely upset that the Herald had yelled at her. She hadn’t said anything particularly rude, just telling her to “mind her own business” and “stop trying to control everyone around her.” Neither of which were untruthful critiques of Cassandra’s character, and even she had to know that. Shit, she really had changed her mind about that elf. <i>So, Cassandra really thinks Sparky’s sent by Andraste</i>. He smirked, and Cassandra snapped at him. A bit unfair, really, that he was a secondhand punching bag. But he’d spent months in the role already, deflecting Cassandra’s attention away from his old friend and receiving nothing but anger in return. It wouldn’t be much trouble to play the part a while longer. Cassandra seemed to need it, too. She’d stuff everything in and then it’d just burst out, usually violently. Eira had quite a scar developing across her brow and forehead from the first time she met Cassandra, who had punched her in an interrogation and sliced her with the knuckle of her gauntlet. Varric had asked why the elf didn’t have it healed magically. Most scars were avoidable if quickly treated with magic, and since she was a mage there was no way she was hung up about it like Curly. Eira had smirked at him, leaned in, and told him “<i>I want them to remember how they treated me at the start. It’ll keep them humble if they have a little guilt</i>.” Varric had laughed, but he was truly impressed. He vaguely knew that she was supposed to lead her clan someday, so it made some sense, but Sparky really was a natural at getting people to do what she wanted. Too bad she was such an upstanding person, otherwise she could’ve made a killing leading a smuggling ring. </p>
<p>Solas followed after Eira after about fifteen minutes. He was the best person for the job, really. That man was surprisingly deft with his words, for someone quiet most of the time. So much so that Varric hadn’t managed to find out anything interesting about him. Unless, of course, you counted his increasingly close friendship with the Herald. Eira was friendly with her companions, sure, and sometimes talked about conversations and letters from Josephine, but it was clear that she favored Solas. His feelings weren’t as obvious, but he spent most evenings in camp talking with her late into the night in addition to their regular training sessions. Varric hadn’t heard anything salacious during his eavesdropping, but he’d be willing to bet money that Eira would make a pass at Solas within two weeks, based on their subtle flirting. If he was interested too, it’d go even faster.</p>
<p>Varric wouldn’t deny that he enjoyed gossip. People were horrible creatures, and he could always find wonderful inspiration for his novels in the awful choices they made. Cassandra <i>would</i> deny her interest, but she had been just as eager to share his observations about the elves. Still, Varric wasn’t sure the two were a good match. It’s not that Eira was particularly light or silly, but she did have an optimism that Solas severely lacked. He’d probably drag her down until she was as cold and dour as him. Varric shook his head and sighed. What did he know, anyway? It’s not like he had made particularly wise romantic choices. It wasn’t fair that someone like Bianca could exist. Didn’t give anyone else a chance. And still, pining after a married woman? Not the worst possible choice. At least she didn’t bomb a Chantry. That was the only time Varric had seen Marjana Hawke cry. If Anders weren’t dead, Varric would’ve killed the bastard. Varric shook himself from his thoughts. Cassandra was beginning to pace restlessly.</p>
<p>“Listen, Seeker. Let’s give it some time,” he said. Cassandra grunted in response. “Let’s play a game! It’ll be a good distraction. Let’s see how many people we can convince we’re actually siblings.”</p>
<p>“Why on earth would I do that?” Cassandra said. She looked like she was trying not to smile.</p>
<p>“Hawke and I used to do this all the time. I think Merrill actually believed us,” he said. Cassandra laughed, and Varric continued into one of his many stories as he and Cassandra sat on a low stone fence.</p>
<p>Finally, an hour later, Eira and Solas came back. Her eyes were puffy and red, but she was quiet. She apologized to Cassandra, who looked even more horrified than when she had been yelled at. Varric called Eira over and wrapped his arm around her back. He jostled her, looking up and flashing a comically charming smile.</p>
<p>“C’mon, kid. Let’s get to camp. We can head out for Haven tomorrow morning.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira shares a moment with Solas</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira sat at the edge of camp, away from the glowing embers of the fire. The others had gone to their tents to sleep, but she knew her racing mind would keep her awake. She wanted to feel the chill on her skin. She had left her leathers and coat in her tent, letting the cold night air bite through the thin blue linen shirt she wore. Her thoughts were a tempest in her head, and she shot sparks from her fingers, trying to externalize her anger into the raw energy crackling through the air. It gave her something to focus on, at least. There was no use in thinking about it any longer. Her personal feelings weren’t important. This would be something for the Inquisition leaders to discuss. Her electricity was coming out in spurts now, her thoughts too distracted to focus properly on the spells. Frustrated, she lifted her hands, the motion grabbing a dozen large rocks and raising them into the air. She flung her hands forward and let out a small yell, and the rocks scattered and tumbled. She listened to them crash over the rocky outcroppings around her. Her chest rose and fell and her breath swirled in front of her in a swirl of mist as she panted from the sudden exertion. </p>
<p>“<i>Impressive, lethallan,</i>” Solas said in Elvhen, walking up beside her. She yelped, so caught up in herself that she hadn’t heard him coming. “<i>I apologize for startling you.</i>”</p>
<p>“<i>Solas…</i>” Eira began. He sat beside her as she watched him. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to him, to be honest. They had already talked extensively at the docks about her fears of the Imperium, her anger at Fiona, and her growing realization that the mage rebellion may serve a poor alliance. The thought of litigating her thoughts to him again, presenting her case against his cold logic, was truly exhausting. She settled for leaning against him, tentatively placing her head on his shoulder. She half expected him to pull away, but he remained still. She breathed in deeply. He smelled like sage and earth.</p>
<p>“<i>You are troubled by what we learned today,</i>” he said. She sighed.</p>
<p>“<i>We’ve already talked about it, there’s nothing left to say.</i>” Eira looked out over the dark landscape, moonlight draping over the jagged hills. “It’s up to the Inquisition leaders what we do next. I need to get my emotions under control,” she said, switching back to Common. Solas wrapped his hand around hers, and she was pulled from her internal frustration and fear. Instead, she felt a fluttering in her stomach. The handsome elf beside her may prove to be quite a potent distraction after all.</p>
<p>“You do not consider yourself a leader of the Inquisition? They seem to treat you as such,” he said. Eira pulled her head from his bony shoulder as she laced her fingers with his.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to talk about the Inquisition. <i>Tell me about yourself, lethallin. Please?</i>” She asked, pleading to him with warm green eyes. He looked back at her, considering his response.</p>
<p>“<i>Very well. But let us talk somewhere more interesting than this</i>.” As he spoke, Eira felt the ground fall from under her. She closed her eyes as her vision spun. When she opened them, she was standing back in Haven. The village was completely deserted, except for Solas standing before her. She was strangely calm, despite the sudden change. Perhaps it was because of the man smiling before her. </p>
<p>“Why here?” Eira asked.</p>
<p>“This place will always be important to you,” Solas replied, walking toward the Chantry. Though thin snowflakes swirled around her head, Eira didn’t feel cold.</p>
<p>“I suppose you’re right, even if I wouldn’t have chosen it myself.”</p>
<p>“You said as much before. You cannot change what happened to you.”</p>
<p>“Do you so enjoy being right, Solas?” Eira asked, a teasing smile on her face. Solas chuckled as he led them to the dungeon beneath the building, where Eira recognized the cell she had been interrogated in. She reached up and traced the indented scar that had formed across her right brow. </p>
<p>“I sat beside you while you slept, studying your mark,” Solas said, looking toward the bars.</p>
<p>“I thought you were going to tell me more about <i>you</i>,” Eira said. </p>
<p>“This <i>is</i> about me,” he replied. Eira felt a blush beginning in her cheeks as he reached out to hold her hand in his. “I ran every test I could, searched the Fade, and found nothing. Cassandra suspected duplicity. Threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t ever let her do that!” Eira said fiercely. Solas laughed.</p>
<p>“You were in no position to argue, <i>lethallan</i>.” He pulled her hand gently as he continued to walk. They strode outside in silence, Eira praying that the snowflakes would cool her burning cheeks. Solas, infuriatingly, looked as cool and calm as ever. She marveled at the feeling of his fingers laced around hers, tugging gently as they walked together. She tried to keep her breathing even, even as her heart had leaped to her throat to bang raucously.</p>
<p>“I was frustrated, frightened. I had no faith in Cassandra, nor she in me. Although I wanted to help, I was ready to flee.”</p>
<p>“But you didn’t.” Eira said. She stopped, turning to face him. He smiled, a small pull at the corners of his mouth, and Eira felt the fluttering in her stomach intensify. Her palm pulsed steadily with her heart, illuminating his hand clasped to it.</p>
<p>“I had resolved that I would make one more attempt to seal the Breach. If I was not successful, I would leave. And then…” he raised their hands, sliding his fingers from hers and settling them around her wrist, as he had done those weeks ago. It was a pantomime of her sealing the first rift. She looked past her outreached hand to the roiling Breach in the sky above.</p>
<p>“It seemed you held the key to our salvation,” he said, “and right then, I felt the whole world change.” Eira was sure her face was visibly red now as he turned to face her. Her eyes flitted nervously between his eyes and his full lips. </p>
<p>“<i>You… felt the whole world change?</i>” Eira whispered. It felt right to change back to Elvhen. More intimate somehow. She stepped closer to Solas, and tentatively reached out and placed her hand on his arm.</p>
<p>“<i>It is a common figure of speech</i>” he replied, looking away.</p>
<p>“<i>I’m familiar with that, you know</i>” Eira teased. He looked back to her, and for once he wasn’t the cold academic she had become accustomed to. His face was softer, somehow. Brows slightly raised, lips gently parted, blue-grey eyes searching, staring into hers.</p>
<p>“<i>You change… everything</i>” he whispered. Eira’s breath caught. <i>Gods, he really was beautiful</i>. He leaned toward her, ever so slightly, and Eira felt herself pulled forward, as if she had lost control of her own body. She slid her hand up to his shoulder, then further, to the crook of his neck. She closed her eyes, then, and closed the short distance between them. She pressed her lips to his, and <i>gods</i> they were soft. Her head tilted as she opened her mouth slightly, enough to press her mouth around his bottom lip and suck gently. He pulled away, and Eira’s breath came out ragged and quick. He looked at her then, deliberately holding her at arm’s length. Oh. Perhaps she had misread him. He had been so friendly and so close and she had just thought… Her face fell, and she turned away. She withdrew her hands from his body and stepped back. He reached out and grabbed her arm, then. His grasp was firm as he pulled her back. He stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her body close as he kissed her. It was deep, passionate. His arm reached behind her and pressed against her back, pushing her body against his. Eira wove her hand behind his neck as she returned his kiss. He was so graceful, so gentle. She ran her hand down from his shoulder to his chest, muscled and lean. He parted his mouth and slid his tongue along her lower lip, and she opened her mouth to twirl her tongue around his. The kiss became more intense, then. Solas reached one hand around and cupped her ass, fingers digging greedily into the soft flesh. The other he snaked through her hair and balled into a fist, tugging slightly. He felt… hungry. Like a wolf on the hunt. Eira moaned softly, and broke away from his soft lips to trail kisses down his jaw and over his throat. She bit his neck, then sucked at the spot. She heard him gasp, then release his breath in a low groan. She continued, nipping again and feeling him arch his back, pushing his hips against hers. She felt her body responding to his, wetness slick between her legs.</p>
<p>“Eira,” he gasped. She bit again, harder this time. He moved his hands to her shoulders, and pushed her away.</p>
<p>“Eira,” he repeated, in a significantly less alluring voice. His face was flushed, the tips of his ears delightfully red. His lips were red, too, and Eira noticed with a small amount of guilt that he had a visibly red mark on his neck from her bite. It would probably bruise.</p>
<p>“We shouldn’t, this isn’t right. Not even here,” he said.</p>
<p>“Solas, what does that even mean?” Eira asked, exasperated. “And why does it matter if we are together in the Fade? Doesn’t that mean none of this is even real?” Because that’s where they must have been, she realized.</p>
<p>“That’s a matter of debate,” Solas said, returning to his comfortable academic persona. “One perhaps best discussed after you wake up.”</p>
<p>Eira’s vision went black. She closed her eyes hurriedly, then opened them. She was lying in her tent. Morning sunlight streamed through the light canvas. She looked around her, but she was alone. Eira got up quickly and poured frigid water from a skin into her hands, then splashed it over her face. It dripped from her nose and chin in rivulets cold as ice. Well. That certainly hadn’t done much to calm her racing mind. The two days’ travel to Haven were going to be long indeed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cullen tells Eira about the Templar Order</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Mild drug withdrawal, mild PTSD, mention of past trauma/torture</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen tried and failed to stifle a yawn as he walked out of the war room. He wasn’t nearly as annoyed as Leliana that they’d canceled the meeting. Leliana had fidgeted and sighed, frustrated that they were losing time. Ever since Lavellan’s report she had been on edge, and Josephine too. The report was certainly concerning, and Cullen wouldn’t deny that he was worried, but the news that the rebel mages were involved with a highly suspicious alliance was much less surprising to him than it had been to the other two leaders. Leliana in particular seemed upset, though some of that must have been wounded pride. She hadn’t heard any reports about the arrival of Tevinter until Lavellan’s. Leliana had always hated being left without information, being outmaneuvered. Cullen had come to the morning’s meeting having thoroughly rehearsed his argument in favor of working with the Templar Order instead of the mage rebellion. There wasn’t much else to do in the small hours of the morning as he lay awake. He had been awake in the small hours of the morning frequently in the past week. Every time he managed to fall asleep he was tormented with nightmares from his torture at Kinloch. At least his stomach had been much more settled lately. He had managed a hearty breakfast and hot tea, and none of it was threatening to make a repeat appearance. The nightmares may be more severe as his withdrawal eased, but the nausea lessening was a small blessing. It had been 52 days since his last dose, and more days than not he felt good. For once, he was the one in good spirits at the war table. He attempted a conversation with an anxious Josephine, who repeatedly checked the Chantry hallway between answers. As the time stretched on her replies became more curt, until she sighed.</p><p>“Leliana, can you please send someone to find Eira? She’s quite late,” Josephine said, voice clipped and curt. The runner was sent. She returned twenty minutes later, face red and small hairs plastered to her forehead with sweat.</p><p>“Ser. I’m sorry ser, I can’t find her anywhere.”</p><p>“Has anyone seen her? Has she left the camp?” Leliana asked, advancing on the cowering messenger.</p><p>“Not since early this morning, Ser.” Leliana swore under her breath, and Josephine screwed the cap back on her inkwell.</p><p>“Well. If she isn’t going to join us, perhaps we should reconvene at a later time,” Josephine said. “I have other work I really must attend to.” She packed up the papers she had brought, tapping them crisply against the table to straighten them. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, annoyance clear on her face. Leliana didn’t bother to pack up her reports, merely muttering angrily and striding from the room, the cowed messenger following hurriedly behind. Cullen sighed and gathered his reports into a messy pile. He left the Chantry, pleased at the sun shining on his pale face. The crisp air tasted like he remembered from his childhood, the winters in Honnleath throwing snowballs at Branson and building forts and tunnels with Mia. He had been so numb for so long, it felt as if the past twenty years were a blue-tinged blur. But he was rid of the stuff now, and he wouldn’t let it take him again. Cullen smiled and nodded to a lieutenant overseeing training, who looked surprised but smiled back. Perhaps, after he returned the reports to his tent, he would use this unexpected time to supervise training. He had been less involved with the recruits than he had hoped, given the frequency of his symptoms and the unexpected complication of his duties as Commander. He continued past the training grounds to the tent, set away along the wall of Haven. He was glad he was placed somewhat distantly from the others. His cohort in back Kirkwall had been none too happy about his frequent nightmares. He pulled the flap of the tent back and ducked in. </p><p>Cullen jumped, yelled, and dropped his papers as he noticed the unexpected woman sitting at his desk. He’d always been jumpy since Kinloch, but his nerves had been particularly raw without the hum of lyrium in the back of his mind. His face flushed red as he felt his heart pounding. He knelt down to collect the scattered reports as Lavellan stood, closing the book she had in her lap.</p><p>“<i>Ir abe--</i> I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. She looked apologetic. Cullen clenched and released his fist several times, trying to disperse some of the sudden panicked energy in his body. He released a slow, controlled breath through pursed lips, then turned to face her.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” He asked. Her face fell. “Maker, no I… I mean, we were expecting you at the war room. You’re welcome in my tent. No! Ah, I mean, well… not like…” Cullen trailed off with a nervous cough. He turned away from her, making a show of straightening his clothing while he regained his composure. Lavellan was making a valiant attempt to keep her face straight, but the corners of her mouth turned up as he fumbled for words. He wasn’t sure if it was stranger that he had an apostate mage in his tent, or that he was alone with a woman. A rather pretty woman, he realized. Pale skin mottled with freckles, long dark hair braided back, brilliant green eyes, a strong jaw and round, wide cheeks. She had gotten new clothing at some point, fitting closely to her slender figure. <i>Maker preserve me, what am I thinking?</i></p><p>“I guessed they wouldn’t look for me here,” Lavellan said, flashing him an apologetic smile. </p><p>“You were avoiding the meeting?” he asked. <i>Obviously she was, what a foolish thing to say</i>, he scolded himself.</p><p>“I just… couldn’t face it yet,” she said. She turned her eyes down, and the traces of mirth melted from her face. Cullen walked across the tent and sat on his bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. She sat across from him, on the canvas seat by his desk. She held a book against her chest, clutching it with arms crossed as if it would shield her.</p><p>“You’re reading a history of Andraste?” Cullen asked, breaking the silence that had stretched between them.</p><p>“Ah, I suppose, yes. Mostly the uprising in the Tevinter Imperium. You know, at least a third of the things they said she did were really Shartan,” she said, then continued, noting Cullen’s blank expression “ah-- he was an elven slave in the Imperium. Led the uprising along Andraste. Though some Keepers aren’t sure he was really one person.” She seemed happier discussing history than she had discussing the present, he thought. Though it wasn’t by chance she was reading that <i>particular</i> history, he knew from reading her report. </p><p>“If you need a place to avoid Leliana, you may stay here,” he said. Lavellan smiled at him and opened her book again. He busied himself unclasping his cloak and mantle, then got up to retrieve a rag and his armor from atop a chest. He sat back on his bed and began to polish, working in small circles over the metal surface. He looked up at her and caught her watching him, her eyes darting back to the pages of her book immediately. He continued his work, looked up, and saw she had returned to studying him. She didn’t look away this time. </p><p>“Commander Rutherford?” she asked. He felt a nervous flip in his stomach-- <i>damned adrenaline from earlier hadn’t worn off yet, surely</i>-- at his name on her lips. On his Fereldan tongue it was smooth-- RUH-thuh-fuhd--, but with her Dalish accent it bounced pleasantly. RUH-ter-faird. It was rather… cute.</p><p>“Yes, Herald Lavellan?” he replied, a small smile on his face.</p><p>“Tell me about the Templars,” she said. He looked at her, placing his half-cleaned vambrace onto his bed beside him. She closed her book, again holding it tight against her body. </p><p>“What would you like to know?”</p><p>“Do they… what do they do? Other than hunt down mages?” </p><p>“Some Templars track down apostates, yes. Most work with the circles, however. We were always told it was to protect the mages just as much as to protect the people around them.” He kept his voice level, even. Best to stick to facts, facts were easy. </p><p>“You disagree?” she asked, sounding surprised.</p><p>“My history with the Order is…” Cullen said, trailing off. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he continued, staring down at his hands instead. “I have seen the flaws of the Order as well as the dangers of magic.” He sighed. The memories flooded back, of Kirkwall and Kinloch Hold. His fingers twitched, and the familiar craving settled over him like an itch he couldn’t reach. Just a sip, just a drop. Then he’d be able to push aside the memories.</p><p>“Why did you leave?”</p><p>“The former Knight-Commander in Kirkwall had gone mad. She did not treat the circle under her supervision with any kindness. The things she did caused a great deal of pain. I took over after her, but there was little I could do to remedy the situation. Then Cassandra approached me to lead the Inquisition forces,” he said. <i>I did not treat the mages with kindness. The things I did caused a great deal of pain.</i> He clenched his jaw.</p><p>“The problem was leadership, then?”</p><p>“It certainly was one of them,” he said. He kept his eyes on his hands, left in a fist and right curled around it tight. Lavellan watched him, absentmindedly adjusting the blue vest over her creased linen shirt. </p><p>“Is there anything else you wanted to know?” he asked, voice clipped and short. His mind was racing again, flashing with images he wanted so dearly to never see again. Lavellan jumped slightly, as if she had been lost in thought too.</p><p>“Em… what can Templars do?” she asked. Too brightly, perhaps. Thank the Maker she was changing the subject.</p><p>“Templars are trained specifically to combat mages and demons. In addition to extensive combat training, they are taught techniques to disrupt magic. A trained Templar can purge magical effects, stun demons, and prevent a mage from accessing their magic temporarily.”</p><p>“That’s quite impressive. And I suppose explains why you’ve been so insistent on teaching me to fight without using magic,” Lavellan said, laughing. He had moved her to fighting with a staff against his sword and shield. She rubbed her hip, where she had fallen and likely bruised during their last training session.</p><p>“You won’t always have it to rely on.”</p><p>“So how do Templars do all of that? I really never thought much about them, beyond avoiding them as much as possible.”</p><p>“Templars use lyrium to power their abilities.”</p><p>“Isn’t that dangerous? Lyrium is really toxic, I thought,” Lavellan said, eyes growing wide.</p><p>“It can be. In its raw form, lyrium is too dangerous to handle. The Templars ingest a refined form, which is safer. Dosages are carefully managed, but there have been instances of abuse or overdosage.”</p><p>“Seems like a high price to pay.” Lavellan glowered at the book in her hands.</p><p>“I suppose. But there’s a high price to pay if a mage is possessed by a demon.”</p><p>“Have you ever seen that happen?” Lavellan said, a hint of anger in her voice. Cullen froze. What could he say? That he still woke screaming from the nightmares? That he had watched his friends killed slowly before him? That the abominations had starved him and kept him awake for days on end? That they had masqueraded as everyone he knew and cared about, and it had taken him years to overcome the paranoia it had created in him? Then every time she looked at him it would be with pity for the broken little man he was. He would never escape from his past. The silence between them stretched as Cullen fumbled for some kind of answer.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Lavellan whispered. Her momentary anger was gone, replaced with a look of concern as he avoided her gaze and her question.</p><p>“I’d rather not,” he said. They sat in silence, then. Cullen resumed polishing his armor, moving from his vambrace to a pauldron. He polished with short, aggressive motions, taking out his frustration on the imagined flecks of dirt on the metal. Lavellan picked up her book, but was watching him without even pretending to read.</p><p>“Tell me about your family,” she said suddenly.</p><p>“My family?”</p><p>“Or, I don’t know, something that makes you happy. I’d feel horrible if you did me the favor of letting me stow away here and all I did was dredge up old hurts,” she said, smiling weakly. </p><p>“I… have two sisters and a brother. We grew up in the southwest of Ferelden,” he said slowly. Lavellan closed her book and rested it on her lap, delicate fingers curling along the edge. She smiled and looked at him, clearly waiting for more. He talked, then, telling her about his parents and his siblings and his home in Honnleath. She laughed at his stories of Branson’s mischief, and <i>Maker</i> she was pretty when she laughed. He felt the tension leaving his body, his shoulders falling and his jaw relaxing. He had expected to leave the conversation in a foul mood, but she had figured out so quickly how to coax him out of it. He’d seen her do the same with Cassandra, and she seemed to get along very well with Josephine. She really was quite skilled with people, then. Which made sense, as she was supposed to lead her clan someday, or so Josephine said. He supposed he didn’t know much about the elf, really. Cullen wanted to ask about her life, but she seemed to keep the focus of the conversation away from herself and he wasn’t sure how to change it without coming off as a prat.</p><p>An hour passed, and a messenger came to summon him to the training grounds to meet the Qunari mercenary captain who had just arrived with his crew, the Chargers. Lavellan got up as Cullen donned his surcote, preparing to greet the newest additions to the Inquisition. </p><p>“I’d better go apologize to Josephine,” she said, smiling at him. She hesitated at the entrance to the tent, looking back at him. “Hey, Cullen?... Thanks for talking with me.” And with that, she ducked out of the tent. Cullen stood, watching the tent flap swing closed, mouth still turned up in a half-smile. He had liked the way she’d said his surname, but his given name sounded even sweeter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A decision has been made.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira hadn’t expected, leaving Val Royeaux weeks ago, that she would be pursuing an alliance with the Templar Order, but Deshanna had always extolled to her the virtues of flexibility. Given the very unexpected involvement of the Tevinter Imperium, the Templars seemed a less personally dangerous option. And besides her own personal feelings, she had to agree with Cullen that they were a known entity, and there was a security in being able to predict what they could do and provide. She didn’t have to personally approve of the Order to admit that they were the better choice for the Inquisition. The sooner this Breach was closed, the sooner the Inquisition leaders would discharge her from her duty to them and the sooner she could return to clan Lavellan. This would be a story for the ages at the next <i>Arlathvhen</i>. She smiled to herself, thinking about her clan. She had allowed herself to feel hopeful, the past few days, that she may actually be able to return to them. Eira disliked dwelling on hope. It was a waste of time, and only led to disappointment. But this was so very tempting.</p>
<p>Eira left the Inquisition meeting with fierce determination. Though Cullen was no longer a member of the Templar Order, as he reminded them again and again, Josephine thought she could arrange a meeting with the recommendation of the former-Knight-Commander and the support of several nobles who owed her favors. Eira tried to argue that Commander Rutherford should just go himself, but Leliana insisted that the Herald of Andraste needed to make an appearance. And Josephine argued that he shouldn’t go at all, that it would send the wrong message about who was in power in the Inquisition. Having a lower-ranked Templar-- here Cullen cut in again and was shushed by Josephine-- as a negotiator with the Lord Seeker would be handing the Inquisition into the hands of the Templars as a lesser party. Even Cullen couldn’t argue against that, though his mood had soured during the discussion and he looked vaguely ill, leaning forward with his hands against the table. His frown was darkened by the purple tint under his eyes. They had come to a conclusion, and Josephine and Leliana negotiated with one another on how soon Eira and her party would leave. Leliana won out, and it was decided that the party would leave on the next day. Josephine tutted, and left the meeting in order to draft the letter to the Order, muttering about how soon it would need to be sent to ensure it was there far enough in advance. Eira had tried to talk to Cullen-- he’d been more friendly since their time together days ago-- but he excused himself quickly and left. Leliana had stayed with her to discuss arrangements. She would tell Cassandra and Varric to prepare for the journey, but insisted that Eira speak to Solas about preparations. Leliana smirked, and Eira did her best not to scowl. So, Leliana had noticed that Solas had been avoiding her. Eira left the Chantry, setting out to find Solas and pin him down for a long-overdue conversation.</p>
<p>Eira came upon Solas chatting with Adan. The men saw her, and Eira stood with her arms crossed, waiting for them to finish. Solas seemed determined to continue their conversation, but Adan glanced at Eira again and again, clearly uncomfortable. Finally, he left and turned back to his cabin. Solas turned to Eira, and seemed to admit that he couldn’t avoid her. The two walked into his cabin. Solas remained standing, rather than settling in. Eira kept her arms crossed.</p>
<p>“<i>You’ve been avoiding me, lethallin</i>,” she said in Elvhen. She cursed at her voice, betraying her sadness.</p>
<p>“I… needed time to think,” he said, looking at her with uncharacteristic softness. </p>
<p>“<i>I just want to understand</i>,” she said, stepping closer to him. He didn’t move away, and that was a small victory.</p>
<p>“<i>The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered. Ma serannas, I should not have encouraged it.</i>”</p>
<p>“<i>You did more than</i> encourage<i>, Solas</i>,” she said. She stepped toward him again, and reached out to fold her hand gently around his. He looked at her, and didn’t pull away.</p>
<p>“<i>I suppose you are right, Eira</i>,” he said, laughing softly. He ran his thumb across the backs of her fingers, considering. She barely dared to breathe, savoring the feeling of his soft hand on hers.</p>
<p>“<i>It could lead to trouble,</i>” he continued.</p>
<p>“<i>I’m already elbow deep in trouble, Solas. A bit more couldn’t hurt that much,</i>” she said, stepping even closer to him. Their faces were inches apart. Eira felt her heart flutter.</p>
<p>“<i>Maybe. You may be right. I just… I need a little more time…</i>”</p>
<p>“<i>Take all the time you need</i>,” Eira said, stepping away from him reluctantly. He reached out his other hand and cupped her cheek gently, running his thumb over the freckles that had dotted her cheek.</p>
<p>“<i>Thank you, lethallan,</i>” he said. He stepped back then, and she felt the loss of his hands.</p>
<p>“Please don’t shut me out, whatever happens. You’re too important to this all for us to be avoiding one another,” Eira said, pushing his arm playfully. He smiled.</p>
<p>“I will not, Herald,” he said, laughing as she feigned formality, puffing up her chest and imitating a Fereldan accent.</p>
<p>“Good. Now come, servant of the Herald, we have duties to discuss.” Solas bowed deeply, and Eira laughed. Perhaps she hadn’t gotten the answer she had wanted from Solas, but it wasn’t a refusal either. And it was truly a relief to have her friend back. Without him, she was alone among people who could never understand her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Therinfal Redoubt, part 1</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lord Seeker Lucius lunged forward, grabbing Eira by her hunting jacket and pulling her to him. Rain streamed down her panicked face as she let out a strangled yell. Her toes jerked along the wet stones, and she felt herself pitch forward. Lucius looked wild, his face twisted into a snarl and a gleeful exclamation tumbling from his mouth. She fell forward as Lucius thrust himself backward, fingers still locked around Eira’s coat. She fell, then, faster and faster, somehow without impacting the wooden door or stone steps. She tumbled, and realized Lucius wasn’t holding her during her freefall. Then, the impact came. Eira’s body hit the floor with a thud. She laid there for a moment, and looked up at the swirling fog above her. Nothing felt broken, so she gingerly lifted herself up to stand. She was in a dim hall, illuminated by soft green light. The floor was obscured with fog. She realized she was dry, though still dressed in her leathers. She allowed herself a moment to feel her anger, seething hot beneath her skin. This endeavor had gone wrong so very quickly.</p><p>
  <i>They had been escorted in alongside some Orlesian nobles that Josephine had rallied to their cause to earn them an audience. They had paraded into the redoubt, Eira’s jaw set in resignation. Cold sheets of rain fell, soaking past Eira’s decorative leather armor and her clothing and chilling her skin. They had asked her to perform some flag ceremony. She raised the flag representing the people, and returned to her Templar escort Barris. He said she was supposed to pick a second option, to display a second priority, either Andraste or the Order. Eira had refused. Cassandra was clearly frustrated, muttering that it would have been better to ignore the ceremony entirely rather than mocking it. But Eira stood firm. Solas smiled at her. He clearly wasn’t upset about the lack of decorum regarding Order ceremony. Finally, Barris had conceded, and led Eira and her party to their meeting with Ser Denam. The Knight-Captain wasted little time revealing his true nature. He had screamed something about the “Elder One”, and had ordered the Templars to attack. It was the beginning of the debacle.</i>
</p><p>Eira looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings. She was dry, and the splotches of blood from her fighting were absent. The building that rose around her was perhaps an image of Therinfal, though almost certainly not the real place. She couldn’t hear the sounds of the fighting that must still be happening around them. Something was off. Behind her was an impassable wall of the same red colored lyrium Varric had identified in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She walked forward, slowly exploring the hallway lined with columns. As she strode forward, she began to see figures in the fog. Kneeling corpses, frozen in screams, knelt along her path. The fires that danced on their skin didn’t consume them. She continued forward, pace quickening. Then, suddenly, she was face to face with Leliana. She yelled, and backpedaled. </p><p>“Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?” She asked. It was Leliana’s voice, but also another, a deeper bass that echoed her words. “Everything you do tells me about you.” This must be some sort of demon, and they were in some sort of… pocket of Fade, maybe. Solas would know what to call it. The Leliana-demon stalked past her, then up to another figure. Cullen stood, still and unrecognizing. It came to stand behind him, wrapping its hand around Cullen’s neck and pushing its knife softly against his throat. Eira’s eyes grew wider, but she didn’t move.</p><p>“None of this is real, demon. You won’t scare me with it,” she said. Not-Leliana smiled, her eyes boring into Eira’s as she dragged the dagger across Cullen’s throat. Blood spurted in crimson bursts, and Cullen collapsed to the floor. Not-Leliana laughed, and walked away. Eira spun around as Josephine’s voice, in tandem with the other, came from behind her. </p><p>“Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker,” Not-Josephine said. “The Elder One will ascend, and I will be you. Think of the things I could do with your Inquisition.”</p><p>“Who is this Elder One you’re talking about? And why is he too cowardly to face me himself?” Eira shouted at the demon, angry to see her friend’s body taken. </p><p>“He is between things. Mortal once, but no longer. He requires you to serve him as the others have, by dying in the right way.” Not-Josephine laughed, and walked away. </p><p>“You won’t be the first demon to fail to fool me,” Eira called after it.</p><p>“I am not a toy!” Not-Cullen shouted into her ear. She jumped, and turned to face him. He sneered down at her, scarred lip curled into a snarl. “I am Envy, and I <i>will</i> know you.” Not-Cullen strode forward, armor gleaming, and thrust his sword forward. Into a silhouetted figure, a slim elven woman. Her. Not-Eira was colorless except for her eyes and left hand, which pulsed an impossibly bright green. Not-Eira fell to her knees as Not-Cullen withdrew his sword.</p><p>“Tell me, Herald. What do you think? What do you feel?” The fog swirled forward, thick and acrid, and then Eira found herself alone. She screamed, but there was no response, not even her own echo. She walked forward, then. She let her anger boil up inside her. She pushed on, determined to find the demon that had robbed her of her goal. She was going to find it, and she was going to <i>hurt it</i>. As Eira walked, she came upon a scene of her demon-self. Not-Eira ordering Inquisition scouts to expand further, ever increasing their range of power. She passed others, who talked as if they could not see her, discussing the conquests the Inquisition had made, the power it had attained, the lands it now controlled. Eira felt disgust welling in her stomach. So this is what the demon wanted. It wanted to use her position to take power for its… Elder One. She ran past pillars of blue flame pouring over the ground. A stream of flame suddenly erupted from above her head, and she felt it searing her skin. She screamed in agony, feeling like her flesh was melting from her bones. She got up, gasping for air through clenched teeth.</p><p>Eira hugged the walls of the stone hall, ducking into rooms and cells as she came upon them. She avoided the middle of the hall as much as possible, as it was filled with angry blue flame. She entered a wooden-walled, sparsely furnished room near the end of the hall. She saw nothing, and brought her staff down in anger onto a table. She turned to leave.</p><p>“Wait.” A voice called. It was one voice alone, a solitary tenor. “I want to help you.” Eira wheeled around to find the source.</p><p>“And who is this supposed to be, demon?” she asked.</p><p>“I’m not Envy, I’m Cole. I want to help you. That’s why I came here into your mind with you,” Cole said. Eira turned and saw a young man in a large hat, standing upside down with his feet on the ceiling of the room. </p><p>“I was watching when you came. I watch. The Templars knew when you arrived. They were impressed. But not like the Lord Seeker.”</p><p>“The Lord Seeker you saw is just the Envy demon. It wants to steal who I am.”</p><p>“Yes. It took the Templars. It made them fight. It twisted them up, they’re all red inside. Anyway, your body is frozen out there. Envy is trying to take your face. I heard it and reached out, and then in, and then I was here,” Cole said.</p><p>“I’m… frozen,” Eira said, blank faced. Cole walked down from the ceiling and stood in front of her.</p><p>“Thoughts are fast. We’re in here, so we’re fast too. Your body is out there. A blade is swinging, slowly, like a sunset hanging in the air.” Eira began to pace, trying to make sense of the information. It was overwhelming, but she admittedly appreciated something to focus on. Better to have thoughts churning than anger boiling. Finally, she turned to Cole.</p><p>“So you know how to stop it, then?”</p><p>“All of this is Envy. If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more,” Cole said. Eira continued her pacing.</p><p>“So you’re saying… if I keep going, the demon will get tired from creating more around me?”</p><p>“Being one person is hard. Being many, too many, more and more. Envy breaks down. You break out.” Though the boy talked in circles, he was making enough sense. She nodded to him, and the two left the room. Cole coached her, giving her advice as she pushed onward. <i>Think of water</i> he instructed. As she did, the flames cooled and morphed, until the pillars spouting them had become fountains of cool liquid. Eira ran on, through more stone halls and chambers. She saw her demon self ordering Mother Giselle convicted of heresy. She passed a prison cell where Josephine cried, begging to be given food and water if she would only be told what she was supposed to confess. Tears had cut a path down her grimy cheeks. Another cell where Cullen, kneeling in prayer, bitterly asked if he was to be charged with heresy for questioning the actions of the Inquisition. He looked gaunt, and the bags under his eyes were darker than she had ever seen. Eira ignored the worry knotting her stomach. She would not become this. After these <i>shemlen</i> used her for their purposes, she would return to her clan. She would not allow this demon to steal her life, her future, and twist it into something so vile.</p><p>Eira continued through the dungeons, hearing Cole’s voice in her head. He urged her forward, upward. She left the prison and waded through a fog-cloaked forest. She could barely see her surroundings, green light of her hand illuminating the fog around her in an eerie bubble. Voices floated through the fog. Orlesians decrying the Inquisition’s burning of their lands, strangers crying in anguish at the demons the Inquisition had brought to bear across Thedas. Eira wasn’t sure if they were warnings of what would happen if Envy had its way, or if they were meant to unsettle her. She ignored them, jogging as fast as she dared through the fog and foliage. The air felt colder, clearer, as she noted stone walls around her. She had made her way to a courtyard. Demons and shades trailed behind her, dancing in the corners of her vision. The fog began to recede as Eira ran up the stone steps, the very ones her body must be on back in the redoubt. She reached the stone landing. There was nothing. She had thought that if she could just return, that somehow her body would be here for her to take. Eira frowned at the imposing red doors. Then, she felt hands on her back, grabbing her by her jacket and twisting her around violently.</p><p>“Unfair, unfair! That thing kept you from giving me your shape!” Not-Eira cried. The demon held her pressed against the red doors. Not-Eira’s green eyes glowed with the same light as her mark. Her grey face twisted Eira’s features into a hideous snarl, pulling back the corners of her wide mouth and pinching her full cheeks up around her aquiline nose. The demon held Eira by the neck as she struggled to wrench free from its grasp. </p><p>“What could you gain from being me?” Eira gasped as the demon pulled her upward, her feet leaving the ground.</p><p>“Don’t play coy with me,” Not-Eira said, with a disgusted snarl. “We’ll start again. More pain this time. The Elder One still comes.” Not-Eira raised her other hand to stroke Eira’s cheek, demon palm illuminated in crackling green light. </p><p>“It’s frightened of you,” Cole said. He had appeared, sitting in the hand of an enormous statue, watching from above them. Not-Eira turned to him and began to yell, to tell him to get out of here. Eira took her chance as she felt her feet make contact with the ground again. She pushed her arm upward, forcing the demon’s hand from her throat. She lunged forward, pushing her foot off the door for extra leverage, and slammed her weight into the demon’s side, causing it to stumble to its knees. Eira pulled her arm back and slammed her fist into Not-Eira’s round cheek. There was a blinding flash of light as both Eira and the envy demon tumbled. Eira stumbled forward with the momentum of her punch, landing on hands and knees on the flagstone steps. Her palms slapped against the puddles on the floor. Raindrops pelted the back of her soaked hair. She rolled to her back, then sprung up to her feet. Before her, standing in the downpour, were her three companions, her Templar escort, and a huge, grotesque demon.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Champions of the Just, Part 2</p><p>CW: mild body-horror, descriptions of blood</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Envy demon reeled back. It was a mass of pale flesh stretched over an impossibly sinewy torso and down long, grotesque legs. It stood like a spider, spindly limbs sprouting from its back. The demon twisted its back around and screamed at Eira, then disappeared in a burst of light and smoke. A mote of light raced from its position and through the hall, and behind the magical barriers obscuring the hall’s end. Ser Barris gasped.</p><p>“The Lord Seeker!” he cried.</p><p>“No. An envy demon impersonating him,” Eira gasped, still breathing heavily from her burst of action. Barris shook his head as the group walked into the hall, a grand room with a vaulted ceiling. Dim light streamed in through windows paned with thousands of interlocking diamonds. The hall echoed with the sounds of Templars, most looking frightened. They talked amongst themselves in small groups. Most looked up as Eira and the others strode in, dripping water from their soaked clothing onto the stone floor and long green carpet running the length of the hall. She felt a stab of anger, seeing the soldiers floundering. This was <i>supposed</i> to be the safe option. Cullen had been certain the Order would be organized, dependable. Any hopes she had of making a simple agreement were slipping from her hands like sand.</p><p>“The Lord--No, the demon, it made sure we weren’t prepared. The Lord Seeker must be… caged somewhere, or dead. Maker save us,” Barris said, shaking his head. His voice was heavy.</p><p>“We must get to the bottom of this,” Cassandra said, voice and eyes hard and angry as she surveyed the hall. </p><p>“Our commanders knew,” Barris said. His brows knit together, and his dark eyes were wide with grief. “It must be that red lyrium. They often give us new formulations of lyrium, but this stuff… it’s never been red before. Our commanders used it first, to prove it was safe.” Barris hung his head, and rubbed his hands over his face. His voice trembled as he continued. “That demon turned our leaders against us so we couldn’t question when this started. The knights would’ve been next. Andraste preserve me…” Several of the Templars watching the conversation began to stir, shouting panicked questions to Barris and one another. <i>It’s like Fen’Harel himself set up this cursed alliance.</i> Eira took a deep breath, watching as the room began to hum with voices.</p><p>“Cassandra, back me up,” Eira said, stepping forward. She removed her glove and raised her left hand in the air. She concentrated, and the mark on her palm burst with a green flash of light that filled the room. A hush fell, and several of the Templars pulled back in fear. Her next words projected loudly through the hall.</p><p>“You have been deceived by a demon posing as the Lord Seeker. We do not yet know who the demon serves, or what its aim is. This stronghold is under attack from the inside. I ask that you stand and fight with me to eliminate this threat.” The Templars looked at her in shock, not one daring to move or to speak.</p><p>“You will take your orders from Ser Barris,” Cassandra said, stepping up alongside Eira. “Those who have taken the red lyrium are no longer your allies. We must hold the redoubt!” The Templars stood straighter, and looked to Barris. They seemed reassured by the orders coming from the Seeker. Barris stepped forward and addressed the two women, now standing near the center of the hall.</p><p>“Some of our veterans, the lieutenants, might still be fighting. They haven’t taken the red lyrium. We’ll hold the hall, you go find the lieutenants and the stores of uncorrupted lyrium. Bring them here, and I’ll give you Envy,” Barris said. His face was set in resignation. He turned to his soldiers and began giving orders for the fight ahead. Eira quickly returned to Solas and Varric, and the four prepared to leave the hall into the fighting outside. Eira tried to focus on the task ahead of her. It would be worse to sell herself to that Tevinter cult the mages were working with. She had to salvage this so they could close the Breach, then she could put this all behind her.</p><p>They traveled to the barracks first. They ran, Cassandra out front and the other three following behind her. They moved quickly through the stone halls, then emerged into a rain-soaked courtyard. Two Templars walked along as a guard, and between them was some sort of monstrosity. It had been a Templar at some point, and still wore the sword-emblazoned armor. But the flesh of its back was bubbling up out of the confines of the armor, raised in a twisted mass. Its hulking body was studded with angry red crystals, which protruded in large spikes from its back and along its arms. The anrgy red spikes seemed to have ripped its flesh apart, tearing the skin into gaping, swollen wounds. It seemed to be, somehow, <i>growing</i> red lyrium. Cassandra did not stop at the sight, plunging into the drizzle of the open yard. Eira froze, watching in horror as the crystalline thing turned and crunched toward Cassandra with unexpected speed. Varric sprang forward, his face twisted into an uncharacteristic rage. Eira was shocked back to her senses as Solas pulled her by the arm into position beside him and cast a protective barrier around her. The fight was over in minutes, as Cassandra fiercely bashed her shield against the knights to destabilize them. The party continued on to the barracks, until they saw more Red Templars battling someone, who must have been a lieutenant. The woman fought fiercely, seeming to accept her allies readily as they joined the battle beside her. The fight was vicious and quick. She joined them, introducing herself as Knight-Lieutenant Abrahas as they ran up a set of stairs. They rescued Knight-Lieutenant duBois next, as the older man fought against a pair of red lyrium-addled horrors while dodging arrows from a marksman on the roof. DuBois thanked them, clutching a bleeding wound at his side. Varric urged them to return to the Great Hall, as the shouts had grown more frequent and the fighting sounded more severe. They rushed back, duBois and Abrahas leading with Cassandra. They burst into the hall to find a scene of chaos. Horrors and Red Templars crawled through the hall, with the Templars led by Barris fighting to stay together and hold off their assailants. Eira reached herself through the Fade and shot forward, stepping to the middle of the hall in a flash. She called up a burst of fire beneath the feet of the largest group of Red Templars, exploding upward beneath their feet and sending them reeling in shock. The Templars reacted immediately, pushing their momentary advantage over their surprised foes. They fought on, with Eira incapacitating as many Red Templars as she could so that her allies could cut them down. The sound was disorienting, with shouts and explosions and metal clanging against metal. As the cacophony died down, Eira surveyed the scene. No Red Templars were left standing. Barris ran to her, and gave her a report of their status. They had lost a few soldiers, but were holding fast. Eira noticed Solas mending a gash along his forearm as Cassandra wiped blood from the front of her armor. Eira took a few moments to survey herself, finding only minor injuries. She nodded to Barris, who began rallying the soldiers into position.</p><p>Eira and her team set out of the opposite side of the hall, toward the officers’ quarters. They aided another lieutenant, called Primmer, a young, dark skinned woman who took her leave immediately to go to her allies in the hall. Varric picked open a lock to the first room up the stone steps, and Cassandra swore when she entered. Eira followed behind, and saw a corpse lying against the back wall. It looked as if the man had been dead for some time, judging by the putrid smell of rot. Eira fought the urge to leave the room or to vomit as the stench waved over her. Cassandra identified the man as the Knight-Vigilant, leader of the Templar Order. They searched the room hastily, and uncovered reports from Knight-Captain Denam shoved into a desk drawer. </p><p>“Isn’t this the man who met with us before, who called the ambush?” Eira said, handing the reports to Cassandra. Cassandra frowned bitterly as she read. Eira paced, trying to avoid looking at the corpse tucked against the corner of the room. Honestly, had Denam just left the body here to rot for days? That man must be absolutely mad. Is this what red lyrium did to men’s minds? </p><p>“It appears he was aware of the dangers of red lyrium, and that he was ordered to kill the Knight-Vigilant.” Cassandra motioned to the body. “That must be why Lord Seeker Lucius took over,” Cassandra said, her voice tense with anger. “This is disgraceful.” Eira looked at Varric, expecting some sort of smart response, but the dwarf was looking darkly at the papers in Cassandra’s hand. For once, he was completely silent. She turned to Solas, whose face was cool as ever. He didn’t smile as his eyes met hers, but did place his hand on her shoulder as Cassandra and Varric surveyed Denam’s reports. She trembled with anger. So the leaders of the Templars had just signed over the lives of their people, deciding they would become thralls for this Elder One. Perhaps a demon had made the deal, but the leaders followed it without question. These people had given their lives to the Templars. Eira may never have approved of the Order, but the people who served it didn’t deserve this… fate worse than death. This descent into madness. They didn’t deserve to become alchemically enslaved pawns. Was every <i>shemlen</i> organization this completely corrupt?</p><p>“We need to continue,” Solas said. Cassandra looked for a moment as if she was going to yell at him in response, but she silently nodded. They moved from the room to the next. There was little of note in this officer’s barren room.. The last room along the hall was unlocked. The room was a mess. The floor was littered with loose stones and papers, and stained with pools of blood. Upon the back wall was a mural, of sorts. Hundreds of eyes, many clearly in the style of the Inquisition’s symbol, were painted in a suspiciously dark red substance. They seemed to stare down at the interlopers as they approached the table at the center of the room, a cacophony of angry gazes. The table was cluttered with candles over almost every surface, giving it the appearance of an altar. At the center was a marble bust of a woman, with a paper somehow attached to her face with a knife. Eira walked toward it, eyes wide. How much force would it take to push a knife into stone?</p><p>“He hates her. Empress Celene. He wants her dead, but he hides why,” Cole said, stepping out from behind the wicked altar. “He hides why. He hides other things too.” Eira looked back to her companions, but it was as if they had not noticed him. Eira, shakily, relayed the information. None of them questioned her. Cassandra placed her hand against the forehead of the statue and used her wrist against the stone to pry the knife free, snatching the paper that fluttered down before it could catch fire on the candles. Varric walked behind the table to pocket a key sitting on a chest at the side of the room. Eira walked out to the courtyard, needing to move. Her stomach twisted in disgust, having seen a glimpse of the dark, frenzied madness this red lyrium created. Cassandra led them to the lyrium storeroom. Varric produced the Lord Seeker’s key and opened the door. The room was humid, somehow. Eira swore she felt the energy buzzing in the room, gazing up at the massive shards of red lyrium that had grown along the wall. She stared at the crystals, transfixed, as Cassandra and Solas moved in and secured crates of lyrium. Varric came to stand beside Eira, staring silently along with her. Cassandra gave them a frustrated grunt as she handed them crates of lyrium to carry back, then took another for herself and moved toward the courtyard. Before they left, Varric turned to Eira.</p><p>“Listen, Sparky, there any way you could blow this shit apart?” He motioned to the faintly glowing red pillars. Eira nodded, and placed her lyrium crate atop Varric’s, causing him to stumble slightly under the increased weight. She made sure the others had left the room, inhaled deeply, and called a burst of fire to appear from within the column. There was an enormous crash, and Eira flung up a shield in front of herself as shards of red lyrium cascaded, flying in all directions in a fiery hail, raining down in the now ruined storeroom. </p><p>“Not bad, kid,” Varric said. He did not smile, just shook his head and ran off to follow Cassandra after handing Eira back her crate. They returned to the Great Hall, hearing the din of fighting grow ever louder. They burst into the hall, finding it once again overrun by horrors and Red Templars. Her team quickly deposited their crates and joined the fray. They made short work of the enemy, and were soon able to confer with Barris. He rallied the surviving Templars and distributed dosages of lyrium so that they could combat the barrier blocking access to the envy demon. Barris raised a philter to his own lips, drinking deeply. His dark brown skin shone with sweat. Eira watched as his pupils shrank and his breathing slowed. He called the others forward and they knelt before the magical barrier, seeming to radiate a warm, yellow light. The barrier flickered in and out of existence, with patches disappearing piece by piece until, finally, the rippling energy barrier winked away and did not return. Eira called her team forward, and Barris waved his Templars on. They rushed toward the stairs at the back of the hall, leading to a garden walled with crumbling stone. They met a wave of resistance, more Red Templars rushing out to meet them. Barris’s Templars met them in an audible clash of metal, and Eira and her team plunged past to accost the grotesque demon watching over the garden. </p><p>Eira wiped the rain-mixed-with-blood from her eyes as they took a moment to survey the scene. As the Templars clashed around them, Eira and her team sprang into battle against the demon. It changed shape, fighting them as a giant tower-shielded Templar knight that smashed Eira to the ground. She felt a sickening crack, and was sure she had broken ribs. Cassandra managed to push the demon back, and it changed again into a robed figure that rained fire down onto them. The team scattered, avoiding becoming a unified target. Cassandra chased it, but it disappeared as she got close. Varric, Eira, and Solas had more luck, bombarding it with their attacks as it appeared in corners of the courtyard. The thing changed shape again, growing its arms and legs freakishly long and taking the form of a terror. It sank into the ground and sprung up underneath Solas’s feet, knocking him prone. Eira screamed and turned to run to him, pain shooting through her side with every step. Cassandra got there first, and forced the demon away from him. He jumped to his feet and dashed away, blurring away to nothing and then appearing thirty yards away. He was bleeding at his elbow and shoulder. Eira scanned him visually for serious injury, and felt the ground underneath her burst upward. A talon caught her and pulled her violently to the ground, hooking deep into her thigh. She cried out in agony, then fell silent as she impacted the stone flooring and her breath was pushed from her lungs. The terror loomed over her as blood pulsed from her leg. The hot liquid pooled beneath her and mixed with the cold rainwater. The terror raised up its clawed hand to swipe again, then fell backward with a thud. A crossbow bolt lodged directly in the back of its head. It remained still. Eira heard Cassandra run to her, and she called over Solas, who began attending to her wound. Magic stopped the bleeding, and a cloth was wrapped around to keep the wound shut. He helped Eira to her feet and she cried out at the sharp pain in her leg and her chest. She was struck then with the complete silence around her. The rain had slowed, forming a misty drizzle that hung over the garden. The fighting was done. Eira began limping toward the hall, where Ser Barris and the Templars stood watching her. Her breath was sharp, as each step brought a fresh stab of pain to her ribs and her half-healed leg. She clenched her jaw in grim determination. Barris stepped forward, Templar armor slick with blood.</p><p>“The demon is dead. Andraste be praised, she shielded you from its touch,” he said.</p><p>“I do not speak for Andraste,” Eira said, loudly enough for the gathered soldiers to hear, “I thank my own gods for our success.” Barris looked down slightly, eyes following along the green <i>vallaslin</i> on her cheeks.</p><p>“We owe you our lives.” He turned, looking over the Templars. “We’ve numbers across Thedas, but still we let this happen, all of us. Our officers either failed to see it, or were complicit.” He shook his head sadly, then turned to face her once again. Eira felt a twinge of pity for the man. He had wanted to do good.</p><p>“The Templars are ready to hear what the Inquisition needs of us,” he said. Eira turned to look at the churning Breach in the sky, cursing softly as the twisting motion shot pain through her side. She wouldn’t deny that the Templars were necessary to their cause, particularly not after watching a handful of them dissolve a powerful magical barrier. But this had been so far from what she had expected. The Order was in shambles, rotting like a damp log. Eira didn’t have particularly kind opinions about the Templars before, but now she was utterly disgusted. She turned back slowly, letting her anger distract her from her aching side and thigh.</p><p>“You have lost your way, warring with the mages and the Chantry. From what I’m told, the purpose of the Templars is to help and protect the people of Thedas. Help us close the Breach in the sky, remember your duty to the people,” Eira said. She held her staff at her right side, not allowing them to forget that she was, herself, an apostate mage. She held her left arm at her side, and angled her palm forward so the pulsing green light was visible to the Templars facing her. <i>Posturing was important when negotiating</i>, Deshanna had always said. She needed them to remember that she held power here.</p><p>“The Order is leaderless, gutted by betrayal. We… we need to rebuild,” Barris said. Eira stepped forward, letting her anger flash across her face.</p><p>“There is no time! If the Order cannot stand on its own then join us, become knights under the banner of the Inquisition. Serve us, redeem yourselves for the wrongs you’ve let happen underneath your noses. You’ll have time when this is over to search for a purpose for your Order, and you can do it with some shred of honor left,” Eira said. Her face was hard, green eyes looking over the shocked Templars. She didn’t move, standing firm with her shoulders drawn back. Barris turned to the soldiers.</p><p>“She may be right. If it is the only way, will you serve under the Inquisition to atone for our failure?” He called to them. There was silence, as the remaining Templars regarded his offer. Finally, Knight-Lieutenant Abrahas dropped to her knee, and the others quickly followed. Barris, too, bended to his knee before Eira.</p><p>“So be it. The Order… shall disband. We will fight for the Inquisition.” Barris bowed his head, face screwed up in anguish. He squeezed his eyes shut. Eira thought she saw a tear running down his cheek, but it could have been sweat or condensation from the drizzle. He sniffed, rubbed his eyes and nose, then stood to face her. “We’ll need weapons, supplies, medical care. The Inquisition will need to prepare for our arrival.”</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cullen reacts to Eira's decision at Therinfal</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: PTSD, drug use, drug relapse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen had barely slept in the past three days, since they had received the Herald’s report. Every time he tried his mind raced with thoughts of the Order, of demons looming over him, of blood to summon horrible monsters, of Meredith’s final days, of the Chant of Light, of that sweet blue nectar, of the wrenching green explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, of the split-second between the sight of the fiery blast at Kirkwall’s Chantry and the sound of the explosion, of the whispers of want that implored him <i>just one sip</i>, of the reports of corruption and madness, of his young friends disemboweled as he had watched, of red crystals growing and consuming his body. It was a neverending reel of images that assaulted him as he laid in bed. As the days went on, he was less able to ignore the thoughts as he went about his work. He had grown impatient and severe with the men who worked for him. There hadn’t been a single messenger to his tent in the past day, though he noticed Rylen was taking more reports than usual. He paced his tent, like a wounded animal ready to fight. The Herald had arrived earlier that morning, and he was expected to meet in the war room within the hour. His whole body ached, and his head throbbed with lack of sleep. He rubbed his eyes hard, as if he could somehow erase the visions they had once seen. Twice he had begun to prepare for the meeting and promptly forgotten what he was about to do. He muttered a curse. He needed to be able to get through this meeting, to focus. It had been 65 days since his last dose. He walked over to the small chest he kept beneath his bed. Just one draught, just enough to calm his mind. He fumbled with the clasp, fingers trembling with anticipation. Just a sip. He just needed to be able to <i>think</i>. He removed the small vial of blue stones and, carefully, cut two stones into small pieces. He dumped the pieces into the grinder, willing himself to turn the handle slowly. He felt the resistance lessen as the stones were crushed. He dumped the powder into a bowl, and added several drops of alcohol from the small brown pouch, then poured water from his canteen. His breath caught at the sight, the blue liquid shimmering so sweetly. His mouth was dry. For a moment, he considered dumping it out. But he couldn’t. He needed it. More than food or water or air. He needed the lyrium to make him whole. He brought the bowl to his lips and slowly sipped the mixture down, relishing its tingling heat as it slid over his tongue and down his throat. He felt the aches in his muscles melt away, and his racing thoughts calm. He closed his eyes as the familiar euphoria washed over him. It had been 0 days since his last dose.</p>
<p>_____________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eira had arrived early to the meeting. She wanted to avoid sitting around Haven any longer. Cassandra had stalked off as soon as they had returned, and seemed to be working out her frustration against a rather unfortunate training dummy. Varric had responded to Eira's attempts at conversation with short, polite answers, but clearly wanted to be alone. Solas talked with her for a time, but he was less than comforting. He seemed very satisfied with her decision, and reminded her that the Templar Order deserved to be disbanded. He then turned to a discussion of Cole, spirits, and demons. Eira had excused herself, with a pang of annoyance. She didn’t want an intellectual discussion about the theory of spirits and demons, not while guilt and doubt about very real and recent decisions were plaguing her. Would it have been so difficult for Solas to be empathetic with her, instead of his usual academic detachment?</p>
<p>And so Eira found herself alone in the war room. She gazed along the border of Antiva and the Free Marches, thinking about her clan, then down to Kirkwall, setting for Varric’s exaggerated tales. She looked down along the Frostback Mountains and found Haven, as Josephine had pointed out to her, then she went west to the Dales. She wondered idly if news had reached clan Ariss about her. Darragh had usually avoided <i>shemlen</i> politics. Deshanna, though, had thought it important to keep up with human matters, and had encouraged the clan to trade with them. It had been her decision to send Eira to the Conclave. She sighed. She wondered, if she had never left the Dales, never met Deshanna, never gone to the Temple… what would she be doing now, instead of this? </p>
<p>Eira was shaken from her thoughts by Josephine and Leliana entering. The women looked surprised to see her already there, but greeted her warmly. They stood silently after the exchange of pleasantries, waiting for Cassandra and Cullen to arrive. Their approach was announced by heavy footfalls and raised voices. The door slammed open, and Cullen strode in. His head snapped to Eira, and he marched toward her. She shrank back as he came closer than was comfortable, his shoulders seeming to tower over her. He glared down at her, his pupils pinpricks in his brown eyes. He pointed an accusing finger at her.</p>
<p>“You <i>disbanded</i> the Templar Order?” he shouted. Eira stepped back, trying to gain some distance from the angry man looming over her.</p>
<p>“It was the--” Eira began</p>
<p>“You didn’t see what it was like, Cullen!" Cassandra cut in, "they were led by a demon, overrun with horrors.” She stepped toward him, glaring.</p>
<p>“I read the reports,” he snapped back, turning to her. “There were good soldiers who fought honorably.”</p>
<p>“The soldiers weren’t the problem,” Eira said.</p>
<p>“Surely <i>you</i> understand the dangers of corrupted leadership,” Cassandra spat. Eira wasn’t sure why, but Cullen’s face grew red and his expression darkened. He turned away from Cassandra without a response, instead fixing his gaze on Eira. She tensed. </p>
<p>“You had no authority to make a decision like this,” he said coldly. At least it wasn’t a shout. Eira decided she wasn't going to let him carry on like this, not without putting up a fight. She stared back up at him, drawing her back up straight and glaring back at him. She inhaled sharply at the stab of pain, a reminder of her broken ribs.</p>
<p>“You all are the ones who sent me to negotiate.”</p>
<p>“To negotiate, not to topple an organization!”</p>
<p>"I made the best decision I could!"</p>
<p>"The fate of the Templars should have been left to someone who knows how these things work."</p>
<p>“So that’s what this is about? You’re angry that an elven apostate has destroyed your precious Order!” Eira said. Her voice grew louder, accent thicker, as she yelled. She stepped toward him, staring up at his snarling face before hers. Eira ignored Leliana saying her name in warning.</p>
<p>“How can you make decisions about things you don’t understand, Lavellan?” Cullen replied. He leaned in closer to her, his face blotched red with anger. His breaths were quick and shallow.</p>
<p>“Well I’m sorry, <i>Commander</i>, that the sacred prophet of your religion is an uneducated, knife-eared heathen. And maybe you should learn to say my name right before you insult me!”</p>
<p>“This isn’t about you!” Cullen yelled back. “It’s about an Order that people have pledged their lives to! You can’t just end that on a whim!” He turned away from her, raking his fingers through his hair.</p>
<p>“Plenty of us have lost things, Rutherford. <i>Fenedhis</i>” Eira growled. </p>
<p>“That doesn’t excuse your actions,” he said, crossing his arms in front of him. </p>
<p>“You’re unbelievable! If you want to be in charge next time you can go and get your hands dirty and I’ll sit here reading reports,” Eira said. Cullen trembled with anger, and spun to face Eira. He opened and shut his mouth wordlessly, looking for a response, and Cassandra reached forward and yanked him backward by the shoulder. Leliana, meanwhile, had come to stand next to Eira. She gently pushed Eira back, and angled her body between her and Cullen.</p>
<p>“That’s enough,” Josephine said sharply. Her face was carefully blank. “The decision has been made. In the future we can pursue other negotiating strategies. But for <i>now</i>, we must discuss our preparations for our new soldiers.” Josephine’s tone was firm and businesslike. This can’t have been her first time managing a shouting match, Eira supposed. Cullen began to protest, but Cassandra shouted “enough” and shoved him back sharply.</p>
<p>“If you are unable to manage your temper, Cullen, I will have to ask you to leave,” Josephine said. He jerked away from Cassandra, scowled, and settled himself against the wall at the side of the room. He remained silent, though his hands still shook. Eira pulled her arm back from Leliana’s hand, mumbling a curse in Elvhen. Leliana remained standing next to her, and seemed to be watching Cullen out of the corner of her eye.</p>
<p>Eira forced herself to focus on Josephine as they reviewed the events at Therinfal. She glanced at Cullen as she talked. He was grinding his teeth, and was still shaking. His eyes darted around the room, and he fidgeted and itched at his arms. They continued, discussing the preparations for the former Templar soldiers. Cullen did approach the table then, giving his progress reports in a low tone. Josephine decided they had satisfied their requirements for the meeting, and dismissed them to their duties. Cullen stormed out. Cassandra tried to follow him, but he rebuffed her and continued out of the Chantry. Leliana and Cassandra left together, muttering crossly to one another. Eira promised Josephine she would be along in just a few minutes for tea. Josephine walked out, and Eira sank to the floor. She hadn't felt confident with her decision before the meeting, and now she was plagued with guilt, shame, and resentment. She had never asked for this. She hugged her knees to her chest and bent her head forward. Her ribs ached in protest, but she ignored them. Her hands shook and her shoulders heaved as hot, fat teardrops ran down her cheeks.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's not entirely clear how the templar's lyrium kit works, but I found a reddit thread with some good theories. I went with one I liked best.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Varric convinces Eira to come drinking.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been five days since they had returned from the redoubt. They were planning to return to the Temple of Sacred Ashes tomorrow, to finally seal the Breach. Varric sat in the Singing Maiden, holding a half-drunk mug of ale. He had spent most of the past week avoiding any serious responsibility, and trying to pull Eira out of her sour mood. She tried to ignore him, or feign business. But she had, however, finally agreed to come drinking with him tonight. He would get that elf to crack a smile, if she actually showed up. It wouldn’t do for her to go to the temple tomorrow all scowls and sighs. That was Curly’s job, and Maker knew one of him was more than enough for Varric.</p>
<p>The room was illuminated by flickering oil lamps and candles on the wooden tables. There were a few soldiers and several members of that Qunari’s mercenary company indulging in a good drink that evening. There was a steady hum of voices, occasionally punctuated with a yell of delight or a groan as someone won or lost at cards. Varric watched the mercenaries in particular. He would have to chat with their leader sometime. That Iron Bull must have some crazy stories. Varric looked to the door again and shook his head. He’d give the Herald until the end of this drink, and if she didn’t show up then he was going to go find other company for the evening. Just then she blustered in, cheeks pink from the cold. She spotted him and walked over. He raised his glass to her, then motioned for Flissa to bring her a drink. Eira sat at one side of the table, perched on the edge of her chair as if she were ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. She looked uncomfortable, but managed a smile at Varric.</p>
<p>“I thought you weren’t gonna come, Sparky,” he said. Eira took the drink Flissa set down and held it between her hands.</p>
<p>“I don’t know why you were so insistent,’ she said.</p>
<p>“Kid, you’ve been wound tighter than a demon in a Chantry ever since Therinfal. You need a chance to relax,” he said. Eira looked at him uncertainly, and didn’t return his smile.</p>
<p>“Unless you wanna talk about it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Eira sighed, shook her head, and took a swallow from her mug. </p>
<p>“Alright then! A distraction it is,” Varric said, smug smile across his face. He was much better at spinning tales and trading gossip than he was at heartfelt conversations. Eira sipped her drink again, still looking uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“So, Herald, tell me. What do you really think of your companions?” Eira did smile then, weakly.</p>
<p>“Are you fishing for compliments, Varric?”</p>
<p>“Not at all. I already know that you find me roguishly charming and you’re enraptured by my cutting wit,” he said. Eira laughed, and settled back into her chair slightly. It was a good start. </p>
<p>“So who are you asking about then? Cassandra?”</p>
<p>“That’s a good start, sure,” Varric said. Eira looked at him, thoughtful.</p>
<p>“Do you and Cassandra… have you ever… are you two romantically involved?”</p>
<p>“Andraste’s ass, me and the Seeker? I thought you were clever, but I must have been mistaken,” Varric said, laughing. Eira laughed along with him.</p>
<p>“She’d probably be angry at me for even asking,” Eira said, eyes sparkling with mirth.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re probably right. She can be intense, Cassandra, but she’s got a soft heart under it all. So, what about the others? Like, say, your apostate tutor?”</p>
<p>“Solas?” Eira said, looking surprised.</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s the one. A real comedian, isn’t he?” Eira was silent, taking a rather long drink from her cup. “Not too bad looking, either,” Varric added, causing Eira to choke on her ale. She coughed as he laughed. So, she was definitely interested in him, but Varric had already guessed as much.</p>
<p>“I haven’t really noticed,” Eira said, face flushing. She wasn’t a very good liar, he’d have to work on that with her. Good at getting others to do what she wanted, but outright lying seemed to be a weakness.</p>
<p>“C’mon, you can tell me. You two had a bit of an awkward stretch on the way back from Redcliffe. What happened? Did he spurn your advances?” Varric teased. He was genuinely curious about her answer.</p>
<p>“Varric! It’s not like that,” Eira said, admonishing him. Her indignation, along with her reddening cheeks,  told him that it was, in fact, exactly like that, but he decided to cut her a break. </p>
<p>“Whatever you say, Herald,” he said.</p>
<p>“Stop calling me that, I told you!” She said, sighing dramatically.</p>
<p>“Alright alright, <i>Eira</i>,” he conceded, grinning at her. “So, Solas isn’t your type? What about Cullen? Or maybe Josephine’s got your eye?” Eira’s face darkened, and she looked down at her drink.</p>
<p>“Commander Rutherford doesn’t like me very much,” she said.</p>
<p>“I don’t think Curly even likes himself very much,” Varric teased, but Eira’s face remained frowned.</p>
<p>“He… disapproved of my handling of the Templars,” Eira said. Varric drank, buying himself time to consider his words carefully. This was decidedly less derisive than any conversation he’d previously had about the former Templar.</p>
<p>“Given what I knew of him, I’m surprised he hasn’t lost his temper more,” Varric said. Eira looked at him, eyebrows raised.</p>
<p>“The important thing is that he’s supported your choice, Sparky,” he said. It wouldn’t do to stir up shit between those two. They needed to work together just a little longer, and it would get ugly fast if Eira hated the man.</p>
<p>“Well he had quite a way of showing it,” she snarled.</p>
<p>“Oh sure, he lodged his complaints with you. But after that, I haven’t seen a single flaming Templar sword, have you?” Varric said. He had overheard Cullen that morning scolding several recruits who had neglected to wear the tabards to cover the Templar insignia on their armor. Eira looked thoughtful, but didn’t respond. Varric sighed. This was a lot less fun than the time Hawke and Anders had drunkenly created a song colorfully titled “Fuck Knight-Captain Cullen”, which didn’t rhyme. In fact, it wasn’t particularly creative, and mostly involved Hawke stringing together curses in her off-tone singing voice while Anders did his best impression of Cullen reacting with outrage. But even Varric had to admit that, while Marjana Hawke had been a great deal of fun, it was probably better that the Herald didn’t share her abrasive personality. Being an asshole really only worked in a shit place like Kirkwall. </p>
<p>It was then that the Iron Bull burst into the tavern to a round of cheers from his fighters. Varric shouted to him, and he came over to join the table. Eira’s eyes were wide, and Varric suspected she hadn’t been this close to a Qunari before. Bull was a cheerful man. He quickly ordered them stronger drinks and began swapping increasingly fantastical stories with Varric. Varric was pleased to notice that Eira seemed relaxed once again, and was laughing at a particularly ridiculous impression from Bull. The three talked and drank for the next several hours. The tavern had grown more crowded, and Warden Blackwall had joined their table. The man was a bit more somber than the Iron Bull, but he had a few choice tales. Shit, Varric loved the feeling of being drunk. It was so much easier when he had a little drink in him to help him focus on <i>right now</i>, to help him forget about all the bad shit that had happened. He looked over at Eira. She was quite drunk, if her leaned over posture and her overly-loud laughter was any indication. Her pale face was blotched with red, and tufts of hair had escaped her braid. She had begun teaching the others Elvhen curses, her face streaming with tears of laughter as the Iron Bull gleefully chanted “<i>Fenedhis! Fenedhis! Fenedhis!</i>” through the tavern, only to have his Chargers take up the call. Varric smiled. She was no Hawke, but that might not be such a bad thing.</p>
<p>____________________________________</p>
<p>Eira stumbled back to her cabin, sure she was going to regret her drinking the next morning. It was strange to think that this would be over soon. She had been pulled from her people, witnessed a catastrophe, become a false prophet, and met a collection of people she never would have imagined. She would miss them, she realized. Perhaps she could still write to Josephine, and maybe Cassandra and Leliana. Or maybe that was foolish, and she was feeling overly sentimental because of the alcohol. Eira walked toward her cottage, intent to brew some tea to subdue her growing headache. Maybe she would keep in touch with Varric. She expected he would return to Kirkwall. She may even visit with him on occasion, if her clan traveled close enough. She liked the idea of it, bringing these new connections to her people. The Dalish had been so closed off from the outside world, but Eira had found the people to be much more reasonable than she had been taught to fear. She could teach her clan the same, maybe.</p>
<p>Eira walked into her cabin, glad for the warmth from the fire. She shed her coat and draped it over the back of her chair. She wondered what Solas would be doing after all of this. She shook her head and chastised herself for being foolish. She began shedding her clothes in preparation for sleep. She had no idea what Solas was planning to do after the Breach was closed, but it was horribly girlish of her to fantasize that he might spend time traveling with her. <i>I’ve only known him for a few months,<i> she reasoned. And besides he had been positively cordial since their night in the Fade. So very polite and respectful and carefully distant. Eira felt her stomach flip as she remembered that night, kissing him. Her mind wandered, then, to his lips, the gentle points of his ears, the way he walked. Eira ran her fingers over her bare skin, gentle bumps of gooseflesh stretching between her partially-healed gashes and cuts, skin laced delicately with innumerable scabbed-over scrapes. She imagined his hands, softly whispering over her sides and down to her hips. She shook her head, losing her balance slightly in her drunken state. Solas had requested time to think. Eira told herself firmly that it was a polite “no”, while at the same time desperately hoping he would come to her at any moment and sweep her into his graceful arms. Eira swore at her own lovesickness, and hastily began dressing for bed. <i>Fenedhis</i>, she really was playing the fool. Either way, there was little time left for such wandering thoughts. She fell into her bed, feeling her head continue to spin with the momentum as though she had not been stopped by the straw mattress. By this time tomorrow, it would all be finished.</i></i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Your Heart Shall Burn, Part 1</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Inquisition rode toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Eira felt a nervous excitement building within her. It had been only several months since her last arrival at the ruins, but this one was much preferable. Her first time at the temple, sneaking herself in with the kitchen staff, pale makeup liberally concealing her <i>vallaslin</i>, had made her nervous. Her second approach, being dragged behind Cassandra through a demon-torn landscape, had been sheer terror. Now, riding atop her chestnut horse, she was calm. She rode beside Cassandra and Cullen, with Leliana, Josephine, and Solas behind them. Eira had been surprised Josephine was coming-- though not as surprised as the ambassador herself-- but Leliana had insisted this was a historic occasion and she should witness it. Cassandra looked pleased, though still serious. She chatted with Eira a bit as they rode, talking about Nevarra and the Seekers. Cullen remained silent for most of the ride, his mouth pressed together in a thin line. Eira had noticed him being sick in the bushes before they embarked. She wondered idly if he had some persistent illness. His face was beaded with sweat, he wiped at his nose frequently, and he fidgeted restlessly with his clothing. He looked worse than usual. She felt a stab of pity for him. Eira did her best to resist turning to look at Solas, who rode silently. She would <i>not</i> behave like a ridiculous child. They rode, leading the Inquisition scouts and troops behind them, as well as several minor nobles that Josephine had invited to curry favor. Eira felt an occasional pang in her side, her cracked ribs reminding her of their presence. After a ride somehow both incredibly short and extremely long, they arrived at the ruins of the temple.</p>
<p>The ruins stood much as Eira remembered, though no flames remained. Eira strode in confidently this time. It was funny to think that she had been Cassandra’s prisoner, and here the woman was now, standing at her side to defend her. Solas stood with her, a hint of a smile on his serene face. She shoved down a flutter in her stomach. The others shuffled in, filling the upper balconies and stone overlooks. She smiled up at Josephine, who was ushering the few brave nobles here as witness. She looked out of her element, stepping gingerly over the uneven ground, but returned Eira’s smile with a small wave. Leliana was talking with Varric, pausing occasionally to accept reports from scouts. It seemed her work never ended, not even now. Cullen was ushering the Templars into place. He stepped away as Barris began distributing lyrium philters, looking down instead over the gaping pit where Eira and her team stood. He gripped the remainder of the balcony railing with one hand, and stifled yet another yawn with his other. Eira watched them all, everyone shuffling into place. Cassandra paced, filled with energy and wanting to move. Eira willed herself to stand still, though she couldn’t stop her fingers from fiddling with the clasps of her leather armor. She wished Deshanna could be here to see her. She would be proud of how Eira had held her own amongst the <i>shemlen</i>.  She wished Darragh were here, or her cousins from clan Ariss. She was more surprised by this. She had deliberately put them out of her mind for the past ten years, as she had tried to focus on her new clan and her future. She was getting sentimental, with everything going on. Perhaps, after this was finished, she would write to her old family, tell them about what she’d done. </p>
<p>Most everyone was in position now. They stood, watching Eira. She nodded up toward the Inquisition’s leaders, then to Cassandra next to her. She strode forward, brandishing her staff in her right hand. Her armor was resplendent, the leather buffed clean and the metal reinforcements on the shoulders polished to a shine. Her dark hair was braided into a crown around her head, woven with green ribbon to keep it in place. She kept her shoulders back, hoping to project an image of strength. Tendrils of green light snaked through the cavernous clearing, shimmering through the damp air and up toward the churning maw above. She stopped before the largest vein of light, palm of her hand pulsing in time with it. </p>
<p>“Templars, ready!” Cassandra called behind her.</p>
<p>“Focus past the Herald. Let her will draw from you,” Solas called, moments later. Eira took that as her cue. She raised her hand, and felt the power growing from within her. It began to tug, first gently, but with growing intensity. She planted her feet, determined to stay standing. It wrenched at her, pulling her upwards and downwards and outwards. Eira could feel nothing but the agonizing stretching of every joint in her body, as if she were being tortured on a rack. She heard Barris call out behind her, but couldn’t make out his words. She ground her teeth together, sure that if she opened her mouth she would scream and never stop. The sinewy green line connecting her palm to the sky wriggled and pulsed, like blood in a vein. Her vision swam. She was being consumed by pain. It felt as if her body was going to burst apart with it. Her ears were filled with a roar, growing louder and louder until she was sure they must be bleeding. Then, suddenly, nothing. No sound, no force. She felt weightless, surrounded by white light, floating in an empty space outside all existence. As quick as it came, the nothingness burst outward in a thundering crash. Eira was blown backward off her feet. She tumbled over her own shoulders, feeling her half-healed ribs screaming in pain. She landed on her back with a thud, all the breath pressed out of her chest. She laid there, her head spinning. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was alive. She heard voices behind her, but her mind was too addled to recognize their words. A face appeared before her, calling her name.</p>
<p>“Eira! Eira, <i>are you okay, lethallan</i>?” Solas asked. She forced her eyes to him, away from the gently twirling clouds above, and his blurred face came into focus. She smiled at him, and his face broke into the widest smile she had seen him dare. He reached for her hands and pulled her carefully to her feet. She was quickly regaining her senses. Everyone gathered in the cavern was watching her, save the few still stumbling to their feet. She didn’t trust her legs to carry her without faltering, so she remained where she stood. She felt a sense of relief, of giddiness, wash over her. Eira thrust her left palm, which had calmed to a dull green glow, into the air, a display to her audience. She called out to them.</p>
<p>“It is done.”</p>
<p>____________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mood in Haven was exuberant. People spilled out of the crowded tavern to dance in the snowy pathways. Doors of cottages were propped open, with visitors drinking and revelling together inside. The Iron Bull was up to drunken mischief, carrying Krem on his shoulders and trying to… well, Eira wasn’t sure they even knew what their prank was, but they seemed amused. Varric entertained a group by the fire. Eira guessed he was telling a story about his friend Hawke, based on how exaggerated his expressions were and the looks of horror on the listeners’ faces. That woman sounded a bit insane, really. Eira didn’t share Cassandra’s frustration that the Viscountess hadn’t lent her aid to the Inquisition. Eira had climbed to the roof of her cottage. She enjoyed looking out over the crowds, seeing everyone smiling for once. And from up here, she could be alone. No one trying to get her to dance with them, no one offering drinks, no one asking her to retell stories of the mark on her hand. She was happy she had been successful, truly, but she was so very tired. It had been such a wearying experience. Perhaps she should be celebrating, enjoying the little time she had left with new friends, but all she could think about was that she would surely be returning to her clan soon.</p>
<p>Over the sound of the music and the laughter, Eira heard footfalls behind her. She turned, unsurprised to see Solas. If anyone was going to find her up on a roof, it would be him. She couldn’t say she minded. He came and sat beside her.</p>
<p>“<i>You did well today, lethallan</i>,” he said. He took her left hand and turned it over, tracing his fingers along her palm. She shivered, enjoying the sensation of his gentle fingertips along her skin. </p>
<p>“<i>I couldn’t have done any of this without your help</i>,” she said, her voice soft. Solas smiled. His fingers moved from the mark on her palm to slide between hers. She looked out over the crowds, fighting the girlish smile pulling at her lips. </p>
<p>“<i>You have accomplished much, Eira. Do not deny yourself credit</i>.” Solas gazed at her, and she felt her cheeks go red. </p>
<p>“<i>It’s strange to think I’ll be going back to my clan soon</i>,” Eira said.</p>
<p>“<i>Is that your intention? To return to them immediately?</i>” Solas asked.</p>
<p>“<i>Where else would I go? They are my people, they are where I belong.</i>”</p>
<p>“<i>I never imagined the Dalish could raise someone like you,</i>” he said, leaning in towards her. His lips met hers, soft and sweet and warm. She jerked back, brows lowered darkly.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, ‘raise someone like me’?” She asked.</p>
<p>“<i>I mean that you are a wondrous woman, and you continue to surprise me with your indomitable will</i>.”</p>
<p>“<i>My indomitable will?</i>” Eira laughed, distracted by his sweet words. She leaned her face toward his.</p>
<p>“<i>Well, I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be… fascinating</i>,” he said, hungrily. His breath was warm on her face. He placed his fingers under her jaw, firmly pulling her to him. His lips pressed against hers, parting slightly as they locked together. Eira wanted to melt into him, to pull him closer and wrap herself around his body. But his words echoed through her head. She pulled away again.</p>
<p>“Why would it be hard to imagine I’m raised by the Dalish?” Eira asked, pulling her hand away from his. She felt a stab of anger, then. This wasn’t the first time he had expressed disapproval of her culture. Comments she had tried to ignore.</p>
<p>“<i>The Dalish are</i>--” Solas began, but he was cut off by the sound of a horn. The shouts from the pathways had turned darker, become fearful. Three sounds of the horn. Eira couldn’t remember what that meant, but she knew it was a signal system for their forces. She got up hastily, made her way to the crates piled up next to the cottage, and lowered herself to the ground. Three more calls of the horn. People were beginning to run back-and-forth across the paths. She stopped a passing soldier. The woman was wild-eyed, clearly torn between whatever she was running to do and her desire to please the Herald of Andraste.</p>
<p>“What’s going on? What’s that horn?” Eira asked.</p>
<p>“That’s the Commander’s signal. All to arms immediately! We’re under attack!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Your Heart Shall burn, Part 2</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chaos swirled through the village. Townsfolk ran toward the Chantry as soldiers donned their armor. Cullen raised the brass horn to his lips and buzzed the signal one last time. Three long blasts. All to arms. He heard Rylen’s horn from behind him. He and Rylen had planned for the defense of Haven, months ago. Rylen was in place at the Chantry, and he and a small retinue of soldiers were ushering the civilians to the relative safety the building offered. Cullen waited for the soldiers to begin congregating at the gates, most still buckling on their armor pieces, and some stumbling drunk. He saw Eira run toward him, Solas trailing behind. Varric and Cassandra rallied to her, identifying her green glow in the mayhem. She looked up at him, fear evident in her eyes.</p><p>“What’s going on?” She asked quickly. Josephine approached the group at a run, breathing heavily with the unaccustomed exertion.</p><p>“Scouts identified a large force marching toward us from the mountains,” he said. He was calm, the rush of adrenaline pushing aside the worst of his withdrawal symptoms. He knew it wouldn’t last long.</p><p>“Under what banner?” Josephine asked.</p><p>“None,” Cullen replied. At least, that’s what Leliana’s scouts had reported. </p><p>“None?” Josephine asked, disbelieving. Eira looked between them, eyes wide. Just then, there was a thumping knock against the doors standing closed at Haven’s gate. Cullen saw Eira jump back in surprise.</p><p>“If someone could open this, I’d appreciate it!” Shouted a man from the other side of the doors. There was little chance an attacker would be trying such a ruse, not when the rest of the forces were too far out to assist. Cullen nodded to the soldier closest the doors, who pulled them open.  Eira seemed to recognize the mage kneeling outside the gate, clutching his side. She looked over at Cullen, then dashed out through the open doors. He followed her, drawing his sword. She hesitated once outside the walls, and Cullen stepped forward, between her and the man. His dark hair and tanned, olive skin marked him as Tevinter. His clothes were asymmetrical and flashy, covered in likely-decorative buckles and straps. His mustache was handsomely waxed to a curled point. Cullen didn't trust him.</p><p>“Ah, I’m here to warn you. Fashionably late, I’m afraid,” the man said. He pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff. He stepped forward and collapsed. Cullen stepped forward and caught him. The man mumbled something, saying he was just a bit tired from travelling so quickly. He met Cullen’s eyes, then noticed Eira standing beside them.</p><p>“Dorian? What are you doing here?” She asked.</p><p>“I came to tell you what happened to the mages in Redcliffe. You’re not going to like it,” he said, pulling away from Cullen and steadying himself. Soft snowflakes began to fall. Eira looked over at Cullen, her hands balled into fists. </p><p>“They are under the command of the Venatori, in service to something called the ‘Elder One’,” Dorian said. “They’re marching with some lyrium-twisted creatures.”</p><p>“They are coming to hurt you, the ones who are red inside,” a boy said. Cullen jumped, shocked at the appearance of the young man, seemingly out of nowhere. He was a wispy thing, with thin blond hair and strange clothing. Cullen could have sworn he wasn't there a second ago.</p><p>“Cole!” Eira said, looking happy to see him. “He helped me back at Therinfal. He um, helped me out of the trap the envy demon had set in my mind,” she explained to Cullen.</p><p>“So he’s some sort of demon?” Cullen asked, voice low.</p><p>“I want to help. The red ones are coming. The Elder One sent them. He knows you, hates you,” Cole said, ignoring Cullen.</p><p>“The envy demon, it talked about the Elder One too,” Eira said quickly. Dorian pointed up toward a cliff, where several figures stood. Cole stayed close to Eira. Cullen scowled at the boy. He didn’t trust this creature, but if the Herald would have him around, he probably didn’t have a choice. And in any case, this did indeed seem a poor time to argue the matter.</p><p>“The woman is Calpernia. She commands the Venatori. And that… is their Elder One,” Dorian said. A blond woman stood, holding a mage’s staff at her side. Beside her was a pale, armored man. Before them, gazing down toward the village, was a tall, misshapen creature. Its shoulders were huge and rounded, sickly misproportioned to its spindly body and limbs. It was like a man, stretched and twisted into a horror. The three fell silent, watching their adversaries’ forces marching down from the mountains. Cullen watched the man in particular. He was sure he knew him, his face was so familiar, even from far away…</p><p>“Raleigh Samson?” Cullen said to himself. It looked like the Templar, at least. Cullen realized he hadn’t seen him after Meredith’s death years ago. He had been so focused on controlling the chaos at Kirkwall.</p><p>“Cullen, I need a plan,” Eira said. She grabbed his arm. Her voice was shot with panic. He looked down at her, and any remaining anger he had felt toward her was gone. She looked so small, so scared. Every instinct he had was to protect her.</p><p>“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. If we can get teams to the trebuchets, we can stop their approach. Rylen is bringing the civilians to the Chantry now.” Soldiers around him nodded, and Josephine excused herself quickly to the Chantry. Eira nodded, then seemed to remember her hand on Cullen’s arm. She pulled away quickly.</p><p>“I’ll go, with my team,” Eira said, slightly more confident. Cullen nodded to her. Cassandra, Varric, and Solas had rallied behind Eira, then, and they set out toward the nearest trebuchet. Blackwall and Iron Bull headed out with the two newest additions. Cullen wasn’t sure what to make of the Tevinter and the… whatever Cole was, but he needed to focus on larger concerns at the moment.</p><p>Cullen raised his horn again and began signalling specific units, calling them into position at each of the trebuchets and at points along the oncoming force’s path. Groups of soldiers began running, falling into the places he had designated. Cullen climbed to the makeshift watchtower by the gate, surveying the scene. He could see torchlight drawing closer, the advance troops coming toward them along the shore of the lake. He signalled again, calling his troops to meet them. Eira and the others were reaching the trebuchet. Varric began arming the mechanism. Eira and Solas were setting to defensive glyphs, and Cassandra was defending against enemy forces that were approaching. He saw magic blasts flying from behind the trees. The Tevinter mages-- Venatori-- were approaching. Cullen felt a stab of revulsion, watching the magics twist and burn around his allies. He stamped it down fiercely-- he needed to stay focused on the battle. Venatori streamed down, clashing in bright flashes with Eira, who had run out in front of the siege machine. He watched with horror as a templar, body mangled with red shards, charged out of the trees and crashed against the fragile mage. She flew backward and crumpled to the ground. Cullen grabbed for his sword instinctively, then swore and blew a signal for troops to move to assist the Herald and her team. Eira held up her staff to block the Red Templar’s downward blow, and brought down a bolt of lightning that left him paralyzed. She scrambled to her feet, and hurried back toward her allies. Cullen released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. </p><p>The battle continued on, a clash of magic and steel swirling around the trebuchets. The snow packed beneath the soldiers’ feet was stained a deep red. Bodies began to litter the ground, some friendly, some foe. The air was thick with shouts, crashes of magic, and trumpet blasts. Cullen directed the soldiers, pulling them to defend siege machines or to meet with oncoming forces. The majority of the enemy were Venatori. The Inquisition’s Templars held their own against the relatively-familiar enemy, but Cullen was beginning to worry about the course of the battle. The Venatori far outnumbered the Inquisition soldiers, and they showed no sign of slowing in their attack. Then there were the enemy Templars. They fought unnaturally fiercely. They appeared to regard their own wounds very little, which meant that blows lacked the stopping power they usually had. An enemy who felt no pain would not stop until they were thoroughly incapacitated or killed. Most of the soldiers hadn’t trained for this. The former Templars appeared prepared, likely because they’d watched their former comrades change. Cullen called units of Templars to fight their red-lyrium counterparts, relieving the Inquisition soldiers who remained. They were pieces on a chessboard, and each had a speciality and a weakness. It was Cullen’s job to move them to where they needed to be. </p><p>Cullen looked back to Eira. They were overrun again, despite the additional soldiers he had directed to her position. Looking up the path, Cullen saw that a large amount of the Venatori were being funneled toward her location-- they must be targeting her in particular. He looked back, forming a plan. He blew his horn, signaling to Cassandra to move with her unit to the westmost trebuchet. Moving Eira would confuse the Venatori for at least a few minutes. Longer than that, and the battle would be stretching into dangerous length anyway. Cassandra waved her sword upward at her signal, and called her companions to follow her. They broke into a sprint, and the remaining soldiers moved to cover their retreat. Cullen watched as they ran toward their new position, meeting with only one contingent of enemy forces. They fought aggressively. Eira was fighting reasonably well, though she was prone to being flanked by opponents. He would have to work on that with her. They arrived at their destination, and Cullen scanned the battlefield. Most of the trebuchets were loaded, aimed, and winched into position. At each station, a soldier held up a red swath of fabric, signaling that they were ready to fire. Cullen scanned once more, confirming they were ready. Cullen raised his horn and sent out the signal for them to fire.</p><p>All at once, the siege machines released their pent-up energy in a cascade of snaps. Stones and burning pitch sailed in a great arc into the mountainside. A cloud of snow rose, and then a great roar rent through the air as the snow on the mountainside crashed down in an avalanche. The enemy troops were buried under the rolling tide, a great tidal wave of force churning through their ranks. There was a heavy silence, then. The soldiers continued to fight in the foreground, but without any reinforcing troops from the mountain paths the enemy forces were quickly dispatched. The mountain passes were blanketed white, though Cullen could see through his looking glass that the snowfalls contained hints of bodies poking through-- a flash of metal, a twisted limb, a spot of crimson blooming. The stillness rang through the valley. Cullen took a deep breath, cold air stinging his lungs. The adrenaline was fading quickly from his veins, taking his strength with it. He gripped the wooden rail in front of him, fighting the nausea rising in his stomach.</p><p>A blast shook the watchtower. Cullen felt heat on his face. A screech ripped through the air above him. Another blast, from behind him now, as a building burst into flames. A massive, dark shadow covered the ground beneath him as an enormous dragon soared overhead. <i>Maker save us all</i> he thought. Cullen heard screams erupting behind him, from the soldiers in the town and those who had not yet evacuated. They were <i>supposed</i> to have been in the Chantry by now. He let out a sound between a grunt and a growl, scrambling for his horn. There was no way the forces could stand against a dragon. They would suffer severe casualties. It would cripple the Inquisition’s forces. They had to get back to the Chantry to make a new plan. He and Rylen hadn’t prepared for a dragon. Cullen brought the horn to his lips and let out one long blast. Retreat.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanted Venatori <i>and</i> Red Templars as enemies, and this is my fic, damnit!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Your Heart Shall Burn, Part 3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira heard the dragon before she saw it, a screeching overhead that seemed to vibrate inside her, filling her with dread. The soldiers around her kept fighting, as trickles of Venatori and Red Templar forces began to approach once again. Many looked anxiously to the sky, when they weren’t engaged with the enemy. The dragon circled back around and spat fiery hell down onto the field. Eira heard the horn, then. One long, clear blow.</p>
<p>“The Commander is calling a retreat!” Cassandra yelled to her companions. Eira and the others began to move toward the gates of Haven. Harrit was attempting to bash in the door to the storeroom by the forge. Cassandra grabbed her shield and, with one sharp blow, splintered the wood of the jammed door. Another long call of the Commander’s horn sounded. Soldiers streamed past them, and Eira saw more enemies in the distance. They were finding their way out of the snow and rubble. Eira and the others ran toward the gates, where Cullen was ushering soldiers in. She ran toward him and stopped once she was past the gate. Fires burned through the village. One more group of soldiers rushed past them and inside the walls.</p>
<p>“That’s the last,” Cullen yelled. He began to push closed one of the heavy wooden doors. Cassandra pushed the other closed, and set the bar across them. Eira stood, frozen in shock. She was covered in slick gore, soaking through to her clothing under her leathers. She wiped away the blood from her face with a shaking hand. Her side ached, there was a gash along her shoulder that stung fiercely, and her ears were ringing from the onslaught of noise. She had fought before, in skirmishes, but this was a full battle. She was overwhelmed and numb all at once. She barely registered when Cullen placed his hand on her shoulder. He was saying something, but she couldn’t focus. </p>
<p>“Herald! Eira!” he said. He stood in front of her, leaning down to put his eyes level with hers. Her senses came rushing back suddenly. She blinked hard and shook her head, as if the movement could shake loose the layers of confusion hanging over her.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Cullen asked, hands on her shoulders. She had no idea how to answer. She was terrified. She was in pain. She was replaying every violent death over and over in her head. </p>
<p>“I’m okay,” she said, unconvincingly. He nodded, and stepped away. </p>
<p>“We need to get everyone to the Chantry. It’s the only building that might hold against the dragon, ” he said. “At this point… just make them work for it,” he muttered bitterly as he turned. He took a small vial from his pocket. In one quick motion, he brought it to his mouth, popped open the wax seal and pulled the cork with his teeth, and gulped the softly glowing blue liquid. Then he ran up the steps and through the burning village toward the Chantry. Eira was frozen again. She knew she needed to get to safety, but she couldn’t figure out what steps were in between here and there. </p>
<p>“Come on, Eira. Let’s make sure everyone’s gotten to safety,” Varric said, pulling on her arm. She snapped back to focus again. This was a goal she could achieve. She and her team ran, turning right and following the log walls. A group of Venatori burst through a burning hole, and were quickly dispatched. Eira felt waves of heat from the fires around her as she sent bolts of electricity through her enemies’ hearts. They let the bodies fall and ran on, not wanting to wait for more troops to enter through the ruined wall. They came upon the Singing Maiden, and saw Flissa collapsed inside the burning building. Eira dove in without thinking, barely feeling the flames that licked at her shins. She grabbed Flissa, and realized she couldn’t possibly lift the woman. She felt a stab of panic. She shouldn’t have run in! Cassandra appeared beside her and hoisted Flissa across her shoulders. Eira followed them out, using her magic to shield them from the burning debris falling from above. Flissa was revived with a gulp of a health tonic, and Cassandra sent her toward the Chantry. The team continued through Haven, encountering small squads of Venatori and Red Templars. Eira was beginning to choke on the thick, black smoke that filled the town. Her legs and arms were inflamed with agonizing pain from numerous, blistering burns. They managed to save several other townsfolk, but not all. Eira had been caught in the blast by the alchemy shop, and Solas had pulled her away as she tried to scrabble forward to grab Minaeve, whose body was already partially blackened by the fire. Solas had half-dragged her to the Chantry, as she drifted in and out of focus.</p>
<p>The doors to the Chantry opened, and Eira stumbled in. Her eyes darted wildly around the main hall, where messengers were darting back-and-forth. There were groans of injured soldiers and sobs of frightened villagers. Eira walked in slowly, dread pooling in her stomach. She asked Cassandra and the others to go on ahead and find the Commander. She wanted just a moment to collect herself. The three ran off, then, leaving Eira standing alone. She slowly examined her red, blistered palms. She dug her fingernails into the burn, whimpering as the dull pain intensified to an agonizing heat. The pain brought her attention back to the present. More alert, now, she leaned against a column and examined the scene around her. She saw Cole and Dorian sitting with a man. Chancellor Roderick, she realized. He looked rather different with his face covered in blood and swollen bruises. Dorian appeared to be healing Roderick, but Eira could tell from the magics he was using that it was mostly to ease the man’s pain in his last hours. </p>
<p>“A Red Templar. The blade went deep. He is going to die,” Cole said, looking at Roderick. Eira stepped toward the men. As she did, Cullen strode from a room off the side of the hall. He saw her and jogged over. His expression was grim.</p>
<p>“Herald! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us. There has been no communication, no demands. Only advance after advance.” Cullen’s face was dark, but he stood firm. Dorian stopped his magic and stood to address Cullen. Eira began mumbling a prayer. <i>Andruil, emma na uth'falon, na'vhen.</i> She felt like she was crumbling into pieces, and if she didn’t find something to hold on to she would break apart entirely. <i>Mamae vir tanadahl, ena enansal na'len emma'lin.</i> </p>
<p>“There was no bargaining with the mages either. The Elder One takes what he wants,” Dorian said bitterly, watching Eira. <i>Bora him sulevin, assan shem, dareth shiral.</i> She hugged her arms across her chest, as if she could physically keep herself in one piece.</p>
<p>“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole said, voice soft, “he only wants the Herald.” Everyone stopped and looked to Eira. <i>Vir ena, Anduril, ven suledin na serranas.</i></p>
<p>“I… if it will save the people here, I’ll face him,” Eira said, looking to Cole. She tried to sound confident, but her voice shook.</p>
<p>“It won’t. He wants to kill you, but he will kill everyone else just the same. I don’t like him,” Cole said.</p>
<p>“You don’t like--” Cullen began incredulously, then shook his head and looked to Eira. “Herald, there is little we can do tactically to make this situation survivable. We could aim the remaining trebuchets at the near mountain and cause another avalanche--”</p>
<p>“We’re overrun, we would have to bury the village!” Dorian cut in.</p>
<p>“Our only choice now is how spitefully we end things!” Cullen replied. He raked his fingers through his hair, pulling blond curls from the hold of whatever he had used to slick them back. </p>
<p>“Well that is unacceptable. I didn’t race here just to have you drop rocks on my head,” Dorian said, pointing an accusing finger at Cullen.</p>
<p>“And what should we do, submit? Let him kill us on his terms?” Cullen asked. Voice raised. He stopped, clenched his hands into fists, and continued more softly. “We have a choice in how we end things. Not everyone gets that.” </p>
<p>“Chancellor Roderick can help,” Cole said, “he wants to say it before he dies.” The others stopped arguing and fell silent, looking to Cole and Roderick. Even Cullen, who quite apparently disliked Cole, was attentive. Roderick didn’t seem surprised that the boy had spoken his thoughts aloud. He began to speak in a weak voice.</p>
<p>“There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. The people can escape. She must have shown me…” Roderick said. He stood, wincing with pain. He grabbed Eira by the shoulder, leaning on her for support. His look up at her was earnest. He seemed to take Eira’s stunned silence as a cue to continue. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as he continued to talk. “Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you. It was whim that I walked that path. With so many from the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers…” Roderick looked at Eira in a way he never had before, with reverence. “I don’t know, Herald. If this simple memory can save us all, it must be more than mere accident… <i>you</i> must be more.” Eira stared back, wide-eyed. She wanted to argue, but it seemed so unkind to argue against a dead man. She reached out with her scarred hand and placed it on his cheek, green light sickly against his red bruising. He smiled, Eira did not. She turned to Cullen.</p>
<p>“What about it, Commander? Could you get everyone out?”</p>
<p>“Possibly, if he shows us the path,” Cullen said.</p>
<p>“Get everyone out, then. I… I’ll go find out why this Elder One is so eager to meet me,” Eira said. She smiled, but her eyes were still wide with fear. She had no illusions about what confronting the monster and his dragon would mean for her. But she had known for a long time that her life was not her own, that she would have to make her choices for the good of everyone around her. She was to be a leader. And while she hadn’t ever imagined she would die for her clan, she would have done so if she needed. These people might not be her clan, but they needed her all the same. Cullen made no move to give the order. He looked at Eira, face soft with concern.</p>
<p>“And when the mountain falls, what about you?” He asked. Eira couldn’t find an answer. She would <i>not</i> cry. She just needed to stay numb for a few more minutes. The look in his brown eyes, though, threatened to undo her. Since when was he so concerned for her, anyway?</p>
<p>“Lavellan…” he whispered. Not his usual Fereldan mumbling of her name. Each sound came out sharp and true, the way it was meant to be pronounced. She inhaled sharply and turned away. That was the moment that ruined her. <i>Fenedhis</i>. That one concession, that one moment of understanding. She blinked as the tears spilled from her eyes and fell down her face. She heard Cullen sigh behind her, then begin calling orders to the soldiers.</p>
<p>“Inquisition! We follow Chancellor Roderick. Move!” He barked. She began a slow walk toward the Chantry doors, as she heard the sounds of people scrambling behind her. She pushed open the enormous green doors, and risked one last look over her shoulder. Cole and Roderick had disappeared already, followed by a great mob of soldiers and civilians. Cullen, at the back of the line, caught her eye. They looked at one another, across the dim hall. Eira hoped he couldn’t see the tears dripping from her chin. It was the longest few seconds of Eira’s life. She turned around, and ran out into the ruined village before she could change her mind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Your Heart Shall Burn, Part 4</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira ran through the village, flames from the buildings creating a hellish landscape. She willed herself onward, as the burns across her shins screamed in protest of the heat. The dragon circled overhead. It clearly hadn’t seen her. Her breath was ragged as she sprinted, praying to Andruil that she wouldn’t meet enemy patrols. She heard the clanking of the Red Templar armor before she saw the group, and dove into a burning cottage. Heat pulsed over her, and she whimpered from the pain of her burns. Thick black smoke stung her eyes. It took everything she had not to cough. This hiding spot would be her death if they noticed and trapped her inside. But the patrol continued on. Eira realized she had begun to think fondly of Haven. It hurt, seeing it ripped apart and taken by evil forces. But there was no time to mourn losing another something from her life. She peeked through the open doorway of the cottage to make sure the Templars had moved on, then darted back out onto the path. Her exhausted body screeched in protest, but she drove forward. </p><p>Eira ran toward the western trebuchet that stood within Haven’s walls. As she drew closer, she saw that it was loaded already with stones. The soldiers must have been preparing it to fire again when the dragon had arrived. She ran to the machine. It was facing the far mountains across the lake. She would need to rotate it to face the mountain beside her. That had stood watch over Haven all its life. That would destroy it in an instant. She fumbled around, looking for the wheel Varric had used earlier to turn the trebuchet on its rounded base. She located it, and began to tug. It was difficult work. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes, not from grief but from the intensity of the pain in her burned hands as they gripped the wheel. But she would not let go. She tugged, leaning backwards to use the weight of her body to move the wheel. The machine above her began to swivel slowly on its base with a groan of wood and ropes. Eira removed her hand from a spoke of the wheel, then gritted her teeth and grabbed the next handle, screaming as she felt blisters tear open, burned flesh underneath slick and raw. She pulled again, forcing the wheel toward her. Her heels dug into the frozen ground as she leaned back. The trebuchet lurched toward the mountain. Each inch was hard won through agony. The heat and exertion wore on her, and she was quickly slicked with sweat. She heaved on and on. </p><p>Suddenly, Eira felt a snap against her back, like a tree branch released to slap against her. Her back arched, and she felt a tingling numbness spread down her limbs. She fell to the ground, hands and knees in the dirty slush. She tried to get up, but tremors ran down her limbs from the electric shock. She felt her body rising in the air, and then flying sideways. She slammed into nearby boulders, wind knocked from her chest and broken ribs throbbing. Eira’s body slumped to the ground. She lifted her heavy head, dizzy from pain and impact. There was an elf by the trebuchet, holding a fierce staff. She was bristling with electric energy. Eira had just enough time to recognize Grand Enchanter Fiona before the woman discharged her energy, creating a cage around Eira. She pushed herself up shakily. Her own staff was still propped against the base of the trebuchet, where she had left it. She wouldn’t be able to fight back effectively without it. Still, even without her magical focus, she had to try. She screwed up her face in concentration. She willed the mana up inside her, trying to get enough energy to fade step from the cage. She reached, trying to focus on the energy, but couldn’t ignore the pain from her shattered ribs and weeping burn blisters. She scratched at the mana inside her, but it was like water running through her fingers. Fiona walked toward her, face screwed up in some unreadable expression.</p><p>“Please,” Eira mumbled, lips heavy and slow with pain. Fiona drew close, but did not raise her staff to attack.</p><p>“I have to do this. You wouldn’t understand,” Fiona said. She looked sad as she regarded Eira.</p><p>“Please,” Eira said again, pushing herself to sit. She spat blood in the snow beneath her. “You don’t want to do this, Fiona. You don’t have to do what he says.” A moment of fear flashed across Fiona’s face.</p><p>“This is the only way to protect them,” she said. Her staff began to crackle with electricity.</p><p>“This won’t protect them,” Eira wheezed. Her lips were wet crimson. “You think he won’t kill them anyway?” Fiona stayed frozen. She regarded Eira carefully. Even in this moment, where most would panic, Fiona appeared in control. Lightning crackled around the end of her staff, sending blue sparks off into the burnt-orange air. Eira steeled herself against the sharp pain in her side as she breathed in deeply, readying herself to shout again.</p><p>“You were scared, you wanted to help the mages. But it was the <i>wrong choice </i>.” Eira reached a shaky hand up to wipe the blood from her mouth. “Don’t commit to it! You can make a different choice!” Fiona looked to the sky, where the dragon was circling. She lowered her staff, now quiet of any electrical energy.</p><p>“You’re right,” Fiona said. The cage of energy around Eira dissipated. Fiona’s face was wet with tears. “Come, we may have a chance if--” A screech from overhead caused Eira to duck down to the ground instinctively. A sharp, crystalline red fire rained down between Eira and the trebuchet, catching Fiona directly in the blast. She screamed. Eira tried to find a spell, to make her cold, to heal the slashes that were appearing on the elf’s skin. But nothing came. There was a massive thud, shaking the ground, as the dragon swooped down. Its massive claws smashed down over Fiona’s body with a sickening crunch. The dragon roared, a sound that scraped the inside of Eira’s skull raw. She clamped her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the dragon had slunk back, blocking her path of escape. </p><p>A terrible creature walked toward her from the angry flames surrounding the clearing. The thing from the cliffside. The Elder One. It was impossibly tall, maybe 10 feet. Its lower half was lanky and stretched. It was skin and bone, wide ribs stretching against leathery skin. A metal breastplate was fused to its front, cutting into the creature’s flesh and burrowing down beneath it. Atop its bony shoulders sat enormous, rounded leather pauldrons, giving it the impression that its shoulders were impossibly wide and broad. Its face was a twisted mass. Discolored, pale skin clung to a skull crusted with red lyrium, which burst through its shriveled face into the night air. It was unsettling, in a way, how human its eyes were. Everything else about the Elder One was such a grotesque caricature of humanity. That its eyes were those of a man was remarkable and disturbing.</p><p>The Elder One walked through the bright-red flames from the dragon’s assault. As it neared Eira it held up its hand, ordering the dragon to stay still. Eira pushed herself to her feet. If she was going to die, she would do it with some dignity. She felt her stomach twist with fear and revulsion as she looked at the horrible thing.</p><p>“Enough,” the Elder One said. Its voice was surprisingly deep, seeming to boom from all directions around her. “Pretender, you toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”</p><p>“Then tell me. Please, I never wanted any of this. I just want to understand!” Eira yelled back. Her voice was tinny and thin in comparison. She needed to keep the thing talking, keep it occupied as long as possible so that the people could escape. That would be easiest if it thought she wouldn’t put up a fight. If she could convince it she meant to cooperate. And besides, if she were really going to die here, she wanted to know why.</p><p>“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was,” the Elder One answered. Contempt dripped from its booming voice.</p><p>“A great being like you, surely you could try to explain,” Eira said. She wiped at the blood dribbling from her mouth as she spoke. She managed to keep herself standing on shaking legs, but only just. </p><p>“Know me, know what you have pretended to be,” it said, face twisted further into a snarl. It stalked toward her, its huge frame looming over her. “Know the will that is Corypheus. You. will. Kneel.” The Elder One held out a hand, one long skeletal finger pointing at the ground beneath Eira’s feet. </p><p>“Help me know you! Help me understand!” Eira shouted. She made no move to kneel to the creature, however. She would not debase herself that far. </p><p>“It is not necessary for you to understand. I am here for the Anchor,” the Elder one said. It held up a strange orb in its hand, made from some dark metal and ridged like a fingerprint. Its finger still outstretched toward Eira, both the orb and its hand began to glow with crackling red light. <i>Fenedhis</i>, she wasn't succeeding in distracting it.</p><p>“The process of removing it begins now.” As the red light intensified and crackled, the Anchor on Eira’s hand flared awake. Her palm erupted in a fresh wave of stabbing pain to compliment her searing burns. Her vision swam, and she fought the urge to vomit or pass out. The Elder One-- Corypheus-- stepped closer.</p><p>“It is your fault, <i>Herald</i>. You interrupted a ritual years in the making. And instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” Eira felt her palm lift, and she grabbed at her wrist to try to stop her hand from lurching forward. She knew that once Corypheus got the Anchor from her, she would be expendable. “I know not how you survived. But the gift you use to flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.” Eira’s palm flared brighter, then began to crackle with red sparks. She was flung to the ground, pulled downward by an invisible force tugging on her hand. She knelt in the muddy sleet, feeling the power of the Elder One’s energy tugging at her palm. She knew it would rip her apart to get it. </p><p>“And you use the Anchor to undo my work! The gall,” the Elder One said. Its deep voice was calm, in control. Eira heard the dragon snarl behind her.</p><p>“Tell me what it is!” Eira yelled, pain searing through every inch of her body. Sweat poured down her brow and stung her eyes. Spots were beginning to dance over her vision. She couldn’t pass out now.</p><p>“I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the old gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I despaired, but no more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.” The Elder One reached forward and wrapped its fingers around Eira’s wrist. Its grip was strong as iron as it lifted her into the air. The Anchor pulsed, shining green light on its face. Eira had no energy left to kick or struggle as she hung from its grasp. Mythal have mercy on her.</p><p>“<i>Beg</i> that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the gods, and <i>it was empty</i>,” the Elder One snarled, bringing its face inches away from Eira’s. It reeked of decay and rot. Then it whipped its arm back toward the trebuchet. Eira's body flung toward it. She yelled as her body impacted the wood of the machine. She slumped down, sitting propped against the side of the trebuchet. </p><p>“The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling,” the Elder One said. “So be it. I shall begin again, find another way to give this world <i>the god</i> it requires.” Eira pushed herself up, arms shaking violently with the effort. The Elder One walked closer, and its dragon followed behind it. Eira knew that was a bad sign. If the Elder One couldn’t remove the Anchor it came for, then her usefulness to the creature was running out. She saw it then. In the valley, far behind the creature, a mote of light sailing upward. The single, small flame sailed to a peak, then began to fall back down in an arc. It must be an arrow. That meant the people were safe. Eira pushed herself to stand as the Elder One stalked closer, like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey. </p><p>“I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die,” the Elder One said, raising its hand toward Eira once again. She stood, testing her legs’ ability to hold her weight. She just needed one last push. She had a choice in how spitefully she ended things. Not many people got that.</p><p>“We will not kneel to you,” she shouted, throat raw. She pushed herself several steps along the trebuchet’s base, and flung the weight of her body against the launching mechanism. The chain unraveled quickly, with a sharp metallic whirring. One sweet second later, Eira watched the boulder sail toward the nearby mountain, and felt the ground underneath her shake with the impact. She turned and ran, then, in a desperate attempt to put as much space between her and the Elder One as possible. She heard the dragon screech behind her, then felt the rush of air from its great leathery wings as it took to the sky. She couldn’t stop to look back. If she stopped moving, she was sure she would never get back up. She ran, stumbling with pain. Her foot reached forward and went down, down, with no ground to catch her. Her stomach lurched as she tumbled into a hollow rimmed with burning boards. She could hear the crashing of the mountain’s load, behind her. Every sense was consumed by the noise, the rushing, the falling, the roaring, the pain. She hit the ground inside the cavern and lost consciousness.</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Your Heart Shall Burn, Part 5</p><p>aka, a break in the intensity for something fluffier</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen paced the camp, muttering to himself. Camp had been set for hours. They had crawled through the tunnels beneath the Chantry, at times quite literally, and wound through natural caves in the mountainside. Roderick had led them, supported by that unnatural demon boy that the Herald insisted on listening to. They had made their way out of the caves and through several small mountain passes when Roderick had died. The many wounded had been set aside in tents to be tended to. Some had required only minor attention, and were sent to be cared for by the chirurgeons. Some were wounded more severely, and were attended by the magical healers. Many of the former Templars had refused any magical healing, opting for treatment from the chirurgeons despite the much longer recovery times and much lower rates of success. Cullen couldn’t blame them. He’d done the same after the Templars at Kirkwall had fallen. Cullen had set orders for the remaining soldiers to set up tents, manage supplies, and burn the dead.</p><p>Cullen sat at the center of camp with Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra. They were quiet, except for Josephine’s occasional sniffling. Cullen looked down at his hands, pretending not to notice her crying. The rush of the lyrium had left him once again. He ached, trembled, and was slick with sweat. At least no one seemed to notice. Cassandra was pacing, wearing through the packed snow until she was squelching through cold mud. She muttered to herself occasionally. Leliana knelt, praying to the Maker. It had been hours since they had arrived in the hollow, hours since the far-off mountainside had crumbled, hours since they had watched the dragon fly away. Cullen got up and debated putting on his armor. He needed to do something, anything. Cassandra watched him, hawkish and sharp. </p><p>“What are you planning to do, Cullen?”</p><p>“I’m going back to Haven. She could still be alive,” he said. He didn’t need to explain who “she” was. </p><p>“She died in the avalanche. We’re lucky she made it that long. Getting yourself killed isn’t going to help anything,” Cassandra said. She always had expressed her grief as anger.</p><p>“We don’t know that. We need to try! What else are we doing here?”</p><p>“I think it is a good idea. Eira would have insisted on searching if one of us had been left behind,” Josephine said, then broke out in an audible sob. Cassandra glared at Cullen, but said nothing.</p><p>“I’ll go. You stay here,” Cullen said. He began strapping his greaves to his legs.</p><p>“Stay here? I’m coming with you!” Cassandra yelled.</p><p>“You thought it was a bad idea!” Cullen yelled back.</p><p>“I still do! But I’m not letting you go alone!” She replied. Cullen grunted, an agreement of sorts. He began buckling on his other greave. Cassandra began assembling her own armor. They worked fast, buckled into their gear in minutes. Cullen withdrew a luminescent blue vial from a pack. He needed to be ready. He had no way of knowing what they might face. He couldn’t do that in his current state. Just one more dose, just until they found the Herald. Then he would stop for good. He eyed the blue liquid, breath quickening in anticipation.</p><p>“Cullen,” Cassandra said, next to him. He hadn’t noticed her draw close. “You don’t want to do that.”</p><p>“I wasn’t, I… I was going to bring it, in case we ran into trouble,” Cullen said. </p><p>“Is that so? Why don’t I take it, just in case,” Cassandra said, holding out her hand. Cullen placed the vial in her palm. He was beginning to regret asking Cassandra for her help. She was unrelenting. With nothing to distract him from his anguish, the pair set out.</p><p>Cullen and Cassandra set out toward the mountain pass. He set a fast pace, walking quickly through the deepening snow. The slope was steep. They talked very little, owing to their panting breaths and their foul moods. Cullen couldn’t stop replaying those final moments in the Chantry. Seeing her at the door, silhouetted in flame. Watching her walk away from him, shoulders thrust back in feigned confidence. The way she looked at him before she left, huge green eyes brimming with tears. The images taunted him as they walked on and on and on. He felt sweat trickling down between his shoulders, despite the bitter cold. Cassandra kept pace with him easily. As they crested the peak of the path, Cullen scanned the dark expanse below. Far off were faint, burning fires. That must be Haven. Snow drove downward, thick flakes landing on the dark fur mantle across his shoulders. He strained to see through the swirling flakes. The path ahead was dark, any footsteps erased under deepening snow. </p><p>Then his heart skipped. He saw a green light, among the dark shapes of the trees below. Not more than 200 yards away. He stared. The light disappeared for a moment, but then he saw it again. He didn’t wait another moment. He broke into a run, sprinting down the hill toward the green pinprick. Cassandra yelled after him, but he didn’t slow. As he neared, he caught sight of her. She looked half-dead. She stumbled through the snow, so deep it almost reached her knees. Her leathers were shredded and burned, and she was covered in blood. Her chin was stained dark, and bright red blood still sat on her lips. She looked up sluggishly as he grew close. Her eyes were heavy lidded with exhaustion. She fell forward, and coughed several bright red drops into the snow. Cullen tore off his surcote and wrapped it around her delicate frame. She barely seemed to register the wool and fur that now warded her against the cold air. He began removing his armor, cursing and fumbling with the straps as he rushed. Cassandra caught up then, and looked over Eira’s wounds. Cullen shedded the armor from his torso, and shivered as the cold air bit through his shirt. He leaned down toward Eira’s face. Her eyes were unfocused.</p><p>“Cullen?” She said. Her voice was hoarse.</p><p>“You’re safe now.” He wrapped an arm behind her back, and pulled her upward. She didn’t resist. He tucked his other arm behind her knees, pulling her off her feet. He tugged her body close against his, and adjusted the folds of woolen cloth so that they circled around her, protecting the parts of her body not touching his. She hung limp in his arms, a dead weight. He shuddered as he pressed her into him. She was freezing cold. They would send a runner to retrieve his armor later. For now, the most important thing he could do was keep her warm enough that she would survive the mile-long walk back to the camp. They turned back. Cullen retraced his footsteps, the sinewy path he had cut through the snow minutes before. Eira began to shiver. He knew that was a good sign. After minutes of shivering, she began to move slightly. Then more. She began wriggling against his hold, panicked. She was conscious, and beginning to look around wildly. </p><p>“Eira,” he said. She focused on his voice, then, and began to calm. Her eyes met his, and she stopped her thrashing. She leaned her head against his chest, burrowing her ice-cold nose into the crook of his neck. She reached up her arm to rest on his other shoulder, and wound her fingers around his shirt. Her whole body curled into his, and he held her tight. The snow fell across his back, melting into damp and cold. But he didn’t care. He thought of nothing except the woman in his arms.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Your Heart Shall Burn, Part 6</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira drifted in and out of consciousness, a hazy nothingness punctuated by brief moments of lucidity. She had been cold, so cold. She remembered an endless trudge through the snow, frigidity numbing the agonizing pain, then her senses, then her ability to think clearly. When she had first seen the Commander, she had thought she was hallucinating. She had then collapsed into the snow. </p>
<p>The next thing she realized was that she was being carried somewhere. She had begun to struggle, trying to figure out where she was and what was happening. Cullen said her name. She realized he was the one carrying her. And he was so warm. She curled into him, trying to erase the feeling that she would never feel warm again. More nothingness.</p>
<p>She was lying in a cot. Dark. A tent above her. Josephine was there, saying something. Eira couldn’t understand. She was so tired. Josephine stroked her hand. Someone had healed her, probably, because Josephine’s touch didn’t hurt. She wanted to talk to Josephine, but the words kept slipping from her mind. She fell back asleep.</p>
<p>Awake, again. Light out now. A healer bent over her, cool blue light from their magic flashing bright against her eyes. Breathing felt easier. They must be healing her ribs again. The healer looked exhausted. They must have so many to attend to. Leliana and Cullen stood to her side, conversing in hushed whispers. Cullen looked to her. He yawned. Hands shook. Eyes dark with pupils wide. She tried to smile. It came out a grimace. The healing magic chilled her deeper than even the icy wind. She fell asleep again.</p>
<p>Sun falling in the sky, orange and pink and purple. Varric beside her. He was writing something. She tried to speak to him. Words came out wrong, mumbled. He smiled anyway, told her to lie back down. Told her everyone was safe. She tried to talk again. Varric threatened that if she didn’t go back to sleep that he would get Cassandra. Eira tried to push herself to sit up, but couldn’t move her arms right. Where was Solas? Varric pushed her gently down. She closed her eyes. Faded away to nothing.</p>
<p>Twilight. Can’t have been out long. Cassandra beside her. Checking her ruined gear. Hands pulled at her hair. An Orlesian voice. Leliana behind her, unwinding her hair from ruined braids. Easing out tangles with gentle tugs. They talked with one another, not noticing Eira was awake. It felt nice, her friend fixing her hair. She fought the tiredness that washed over her. She needed to stay awake just a little longer, to explain what she had seen. Cassandra came to stand next to her as she spoke. Leliana continued untangling and then braiding her hair, fingers deft and gentle. Words spilled from Eira’s mouth as if a dam had burst. They came fast, chaotic, and confused. The others were silent, waiting until her torrent of sounds slowed. After a few minutes she trailed off. She was so, so tired. Cassandra left, and Leliana stroked her hair as she faded back into sleep.</p>
<p>Nighttime now. She opened her eyes. Eira looked around the tent. Mother Giselle was sitting with her. She hadn’t spoken much with the Mother since their conversations in the Hinterlands. Eira felt more alert than before. She must have been healed again. She pushed herself up to sit. Her body ached, but there were no sharp pains. She heard raised voices. The Inquisition leaders, based on their accents. Antivan and Orlesian and Nevarran and Fereldan. They sounded angry, scared, exhausted. Eira tried to focus, to hear what they were saying. Perhaps she could help, step in and mediate their argument somehow. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, gasping slightly at the wave of dizziness that hit as she turned her body.</p>
<p>“Herald, you need to rest,” Mother Giselle said. Eira had forgotten she was there.</p>
<p>“How long have they been fighting?” Eira asked.</p>
<p>“They have been arguing for hours. They have that luxury because of you. They are filled with doubt and fear. When that happens, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten the Inquisition as much as this Corypheus.”</p>
<p>“Corypheus… Where is he now?” Eira said. She tried to hold back the wild fear the name raised in her. </p>
<p>“We are not sure where <i>we</i> are. Which may be why there is still no sign of him or the forces he commands. Or perhaps because you are believed dead, or because the Inquisition is seen as powerless after the destruction of Haven. Or he still may gird for yet another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us.” Mother Giselle sat, calm and thoughtful, in her Andrastian finery. On anyone else, the unblemished white would have been a sign of weakness, evidence of a fight avoided, but Eira had seen evidence of Giselle’s bravery in the Hinterlands. The woman was not a warrior, but she did not shy from danger. Eira’s face creased into a frown.</p>
<p>“If they’re arguing about what we should do next, I should be there. Maybe I could help…”</p>
<p>“Another heated voice won’t help, not even yours. Perhaps especially yours.”</p>
<p>“Because I’m Dalish? A mage?” Eira’s voice dripped bitterness. “Do they still see me as such an outsider?”</p>
<p>“Our leaders struggle because of what they saw. The survivors, we witnessed our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her <i>return</i>. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. The more our trials seem ordained.” Eira balked, expression surprised and suspicious. “They do not see you as an outsider, Lavellan. They see you as a blessed savior.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t die! I guess I almost did, but still. No one returns once Falon’Din guides them to death.”</p>
<p>“Of course the dead cannot return from beyond the veil. But the people know what they saw,” Giselle said, eyes fixed on Eira. “Or perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are <i>not</i> with us?” Eira looked back at her, unsure. Most believed the <i>shemlen</i> Maker was a separate deity from the Elvhen gods, but there were some who theorised that events attributed to the Maker were really the acts of the Elvhen Creators. What Giselle assumed to be the will of the Maker could, perhaps, be the guidance of Falon’Din and his twin. </p>
<p>“What do you think about what Corypheus said. About the golden city?”</p>
<p>“Our scripture says that Tevinter magisters entered the Fade to reach the Golden City, seat of the Maker. For their crime they were cast out as darkspawn. Their hubris is why we suffer blight, and why the Maker turned from us. If such is the claim of this Corypheus, he is a monster beyond imagining. All mankind continues to suffer for that sin.”</p>
<p>“Our people always said that the blight was created by one of the Forgotten Ones, Anaris. We don’t know much about him, but he is the source of the taint,” Eira said. </p>
<p>“We cannot say what really happened,” Giselle agreed. “There is likely truth in each of the stories.” Eira was surprised to hear such a heresy from Giselle, but the woman continued. “If even a shred of it is true, all the more reason Andraste would choose someone to rise against him.”</p>
<p>“Or Elgar’nan,” Eira said. Giselle smiled softly, but said nothing. Silence stretched between them. Eira noticed that the camp around them was quieter, too. It seemed the Inquisition’s leaders had tired of arguing with one another. The four humans sat in a clearing just outside the tent. They looked drained. Cassandra was silently fuming over a map, Cullen sat alone, head in his hands, and Leliana had her hand resting on Josephine’s shoulder as both stared off into the darkness. Eira got up, wincing as she pushed her weight onto her feet. She wanted to help, to do something. Maybe this was some sort of divine fate, or maybe it was a random happening. But whatever the case, her friends needed her help. There would always be time later for grand, poetic thoughts about the gods. Eira walked from the tent with slow, steady steps. The wind was harsh on her face as she stepped from the protection of the canvas. She walked toward the others. Josephine noticed her first, getting up almost immediately to embrace her. Neither woman managed a smile. Eira looked to Cullen, still with his head bowed. He was somehow sweating, despite the cold. Cassandra met her eyes from across the clearing. Behind her, a woman began to sing. Mother Giselle walked from the tent, alto voice beginning a hymn that Eira didn’t recognize. The others clearly did, however. Leliana was first to join in the song with a sweet soprano. Others from around the camp began to move toward them. Eira stood in the firelight in awe as more and more people gathered around her, singing the hymn. Cassandra’s singing was not particularly skilled, but it was no less touching. Cullen’s voice was surprisingly sweet as it blended with the others. The song rose above them as they stood, then knelt before her. She saw in their faces the pain, the fear, and the overwhelming hope as they looked at her. Chills ran down her spine though not because of the cold. Perhaps everything that had happened to her had been an accident up until now. Perhaps she had been a hapless victim of fate. Or perhaps the gods had chosen her for something greater. Whatever was true, Eira knew things would be different after this point.</p>
<p>__________________________</p>
<p>Solas pulled her aside later that evening. It was the first time she had seen him since Haven. She wasn’t sure how to begin, but he began to speak.</p>
<p>“<i>Lethallin</i>, a word?” He walked away, toward a hill beside the camp. Eira felt a twinge of annoyance at his surety that she would follow, but follow she did. He stood on a bald, snowy hill. His lithe figure solitary, save for the wrought metal torch beside him. He lit it with a wave of his hand, cold blue flame erupting in the frame. Its light across his pale face was eerie, dark. </p>
<p>“Giselle is a wise woman, worth heeding. Her kind understand the movements that unite a cause. Or fracture it,” he said, arms folded behind his back. Eira came to stand across from him, blue flame between them.</p>
<p>“The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. It is worthy of pride,” he said. He didn’t look at her, instead staring out into the dark forest.</p>
<p>“You sound… unhappy with my situation,” she said. It wasn’t quite right, but she couldn’t think of how else to describe his behavior. Detached and cold, and avoidant. If he were simply angry with her, he would have been the pinnacle of politeness. This silence, this was fear.</p>
<p>“The orb Corypheus wielded, the one he used to open the Breach, it is ours. An Elvhen artifact. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. We must find out how he survived… and we must prepare for the reaction of the people when they discover the orb is of our people. They will likely be less kind to you than they were tonight.” He did look at Eira then, concern in his eyes. </p>
<p>“Solas… <i>how do you know this</i>” Eira said, switching to Elvhen. </p>
<p>“<i>It is one of the foci, objects used to channel the powers of our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are whispers in ruins and faint visions in the Fade. I do not know how Corypheus came to it, but is </i>is<i> Elvhen, and with it he threatens the heart of human faith.</i>” Eira shivered in the cold, and hugged her arms around herself. She and Solas looked to one another. She was tempted to reach out to him, to wrap herself in his arms and hide from the forces that wanted to use her. But something in the way he watched her was just as chilling. She felt utterly alone.</p>
<p>“<i>They blamed me at the start, and they’ll blame me at the end. I’ve just got to do what I can in the middle,</i>” she said finally. </p>
<p>“You will need every advantage you can get, then. I will find you tomorrow, once it is light. We shall bring them a miracle,” he said. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she was crushingly tired. She would find out his intentions soon enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Your Heart Shall Burn, Part Infinity<br/>(but actually, the infinite quest is done!)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Solas had led them through the mountains. Their pace was slow as they weaved through long-forgotten paths. Solas had told her that they were headed for an old Elvhen fortress, one he had visited in the Fade. The <i>shemlen</i> would hate her when they discovered that the orb was Elvhen, but perhaps the gift of an Elvhen stronghold would dull their anger. Eira was surprisingly light on her feet as she followed him through the snow. She had been attended nearly nonstop by the Inquisition’s magical healers, and they had worked well. Her primary complaints were constant aches, a slight throb in her ribs, and a slight amount of scarring on her hands from burns that had not been healed quickly enough. It was a small price to pay for her life. The Inquisition’s leaders followed behind the two elves, at a far enough distance that they could talk amongst themselves without Eira hearing them. She tried to convince herself that it was not a sign of something sinister. The soldiers and camp followers had been left back with Captain Rylen, to await orders from Cullen before moving on. Finally, they crested a ridge and Solas stopped. He smiled at Eira and motioned for her to look forward. She gasped. Up on another peak she saw a castle. It shone in the midmorning sunlight. A wall surrounded the structure, with towers thrusting up into the blue sky. It was breathtaking.</p>
<p>“Skyhold,” Solas said simply. Eira was frozen in wonder, mouth hanging open in a dopey smile. It would be perfect.</p>
<p>___________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first week in Skyhold had been a blur. The castle itself was crumbling, filled with cobwebs and rotting wood and fallen stone. Despite its ill repair, it was a wonder. Eira had been left largely alone her first days, and she spent it wandering the halls and tunnels, and exploring the towers and ramparts. Icy mountains speckled with evergreen trees stretched around them. She felt safe, nestled among the jagged peaks. No one would find this place. She watched the sun setting from the balcony of her assigned quarters, the sounds of the soldiers and workers arriving floating up through the mountain air. It was a huge room, larger than any reasonable person would need. They must have really been committed to this “religious prophet” act to give her such an impressive lodging. There was a washroom next to her quarters, connected by a doorway closed with drapery. Eira filled the bathtub with water conjured and heated with simple magic. She found cakes of soap that had been delivered to her quarters and eased herself into the warm water. She scrubbed away the dirt, ash, blood, and sweat that coated her skin. Her skin became pink with the heat and the force of her scouring. Her skin was free of the remnants of her battle, but she still saw images of that monster as she closed her eyes. She sighed, drying herself with a puff of hot air, and tucked herself into her bed. She tried to focus on the excitement of Skyhold as she drifted off to sleep, to banish the images of burning and horror that she saw behind her eyes. </p>
<p>The week passed without indecent. Eira was happy to stay to herself. Solas was often off in the depths of the castle, dredging up passageways he had seen in dreams. Varric sometimes spoke with her, but he seemed busied with the reconstruction process for some reason. Maybe he just needed something to focus on. Dorian had installed himself in the library, though its offerings were sparse. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the Tevinter man yet, but wasn’t ready to address him yet. She saw nothing of the leaders, but it was unsurprising. They were, presumably, very busy with the process of settling in. Eira considered trying to catch Josephine for a cup of tea, but she couldn’t think of how to ask. Everything was strange now, and she wasn’t sure what her role was. She contented herself with solitary exploration, until she had seen every inch of the fortress. The days passed by quickly, until Eira’s unease began to mount. She had let herself wait long enough. Tomorrow she would find Cassandra and find out what was planned for her.</p>
<p>Eira woke from yet another night of fitful sleep. The sun shone through the windows of her room. She sighed, and pulled herself up from her bed. She shifted through the tunics and breeches packed into the drawers. She finally selected brown woolen breeches that ended above her knees, cream stockings, a loose, light-colored linen shirt, and a bright blue waistcoat. It all fit suspiciously well. Eira wondered how long ago Josephine had ordered her these clothes for her. She left her hair down, rather than pulling it into a braid. Dark brown curls cascaded down her back. She tied a blue band up over her crown, pulling her hair back away from her face. She hesitated, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She looked ready to face the others. She tried to put on a confident face, despite her persistent anxiety. It had been a kindness that she was left alone the previous week, but she couldn’t avoid them forever. Better to go now and face whatever was in store for her. At least this time she was relatively certain they would treat her kindly.</p>
<p>Eira strode through the main hall, which was strangely empty. She had expected a bustle of activity, people ferrying back and forth, but the hall was silent. Well, not completely. Silhouetted in the doorway were the Inquisition’s four leaders, talking quietly amongst themselves. They stopped as Eira approached. Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana stepped away silently, and walked out down the sunbathed staircase. Cassandra stood alone, smiling lightly as Eira reached her. </p>
<p>“People are arriving daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage,” she said, turning to look out over the courtyard. The yard bustled with people and soldiers, amassed by the side of the grand stone staircase.</p>
<p>“If everyone here knows, then Corypheus will too,” Eira said, not returning Cassandra’s smile. She crossed her arms in front of her.</p>
<p>“We have walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but the threat is beyond the war we anticipated,” Cassandra said. Her voice was calm. “But we know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.”</p>
<p>“He wanted this,” Eira said, looking down and holding out her palm.</p>
<p>“Did that mark on your hand make you worthy? Or were you already worthy of leading?” Cassandra asked. Eira looked at her with a furrowed brow. She had thought this was a conversation about the Inquisition, not about her.</p>
<p>“It was an accident that it ended up with me. Probably,” Eira said. She didn’t want to entertain her earlier fantasy that she had been guided by Elgar'nan. She was embarrassed, how easily she had let the <i>shemlens’</i> praise go to her head like that. </p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Cassandra said. She walked out to the top of the staircase, and Eira followed. “But your determination and bravery brought us out of Haven. Your decisions let us heal the sky.” Eira followed as they walked down the stairs. The people in the courtyard hushed, watching her. Eira felt her face grow red with the intensity of their attention and with Cassandra’s praise.</p>
<p>“You are that creature’s rival because of what <i>you</i> did. And we know it, all of us.” They walked down toward the stone landing, where Leliana stood holding a sword. It looked ceremonial, perhaps, with ornate carving and a gilded hilt. Eira felt her heart beating faster, as everyone watched her approach. She stopped, and took a few steps backward.</p>
<p>“The Inquisition requires a leader,” Cassandra said. Eira’s eyes grew wide as she admitted to herself what was happening. She opened her mouth to protest, but Leliana cut in.</p>
<p>“The one who has <i>already</i> been leading it.” She held forward the sword toward Eira. <br/>Eira looked between the two women. Their faces were warm. </p>
<p>“You… all agreed to this? I mean, the decisions I’ve made… I know Commander Rutherford hasn’t…” Eira trailed off. She couldn’t think of a better excuse. It really wasn’t about him. Eira had thought she would lead her clan. A small band of Dalish elves. To lead here, she would be under constant scrutiny from people who held little affection for her. She wasn’t sure if any of them would protect her the next time her decisions were unpopular.</p>
<p>“See for yourself,” Cassandra said, gesturing out toward the crowd amassed beneath them. At the front was Cullen, in full armor, looking up to her. Smiling. She felt a flutter in her stomach as she met his warm eyes. She looked out over the rest of the people, soldiers and citizens. They were silent, waiting. Reverent. Her heart pounded. She looked back to Cassandra.</p>
<p>“You would trust this to a mage? A Dalish elf?”</p>
<p>“I will not pretend that no one will object, but times are changing. Perhaps this is what the Maker intended.” Eira winced slightly at the reminder of her supposed Andrastian divinity. “There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you will lead, is yours to decide.” Eira stepped toward Leliana, heart skipping. She wrapped her hand around the grip of the sword, fingers pale against the dark leather. She lifted it, point up, from Leliana’s fingers. She turned to the crowd beneath her, trying to hold her sword the way Cullen had taught her months ago. </p>
<p>“I will lead this Inquisition as an ambassador. An elf, standing against the forces of darkness for the good of Thedas. The Inquisition serves all.” Her voice rang out into the silent yard, as the people looked up at her. Cassandra stepped forward.</p>
<p>“Have our people been told?” She called, voice booming.</p>
<p>“They have. And soon, the world!” Josephine called back, grinning from ear to ear up at Eira. </p>
<p>“Commander, will they follow?”</p>
<p>“Inquisition! Will you follow?” Cullen called, turning to the people behind him. They cheered. “Will you fight?” He called. They responded with more cheers. “Will we triumph?” His tenor voice rose as he continued, until he was shouting fervently. He turned to look up at her, baring his sword and raising it in salute. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your <i>Inquisitor</i>!” He stared up at Eira, face split in a lopsided grin. She found herself smiling back. She raised her sword aloft, in imitation of him, and a swell of cheering erupted at her gesture. She struggled against the sword’s weight, not wanting to look as weak as she certainly was. Eira felt lighter than she had in months. She had been so unsure, but now, seeing the people below her, she knew she was ready. She would be their leader, their guide. Perhaps this was the fate she had been training for her whole life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The leaders convene to plan their next moves.</p><p>Cullen apologizes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: withdrawal symptoms</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira fiddled with her jacket as she waited in the war room with Josephine and Leliana. The dark red fabric was richly embroidered in gold down the front, elaborate scrolls and vines swirling around gleaming gold buttons. Each was shaped in the image of the Inquisition’s flaming eye. The flaming, sword-pierced eye was embroidered across the back of her jacket, with the spokes swirling outward and across her shoulders, winding down her arms. They snaked and branched, almost like <i>vallaslin</i>. Eira wondered if that had been intentional. She felt silly wearing the jacket, she admitted, but Josephine had insisted. She needed to look the part of the Inquisitor. </p><p>“Josephine, these buttons are impossible,” Eira complained. The spokes around the eye and the swordpoint caught on the buttonhole as she tried to push it through, and she didn’t want to tear the rich fabric. </p><p>“It’s not meant to button,” Josephine said. “Here, let me.” She placed her tea on the table and set to work adjusting the coat, preening Eira into a vision of regal leadership. </p><p>“She looks fine, Josie,’ Leliana laughed. Eira smiled. It was a luxury, fussing over her outfit with her friends, and she appreciated it immensely. After everything she had gone through in the past weeks, she had grown to appreciate these quiet moments that had previously seen frivolous. Cullen walked in and took his place at the table as Josephine was straightening the golden band that wrapped around Eira’s forehead, resting on the brown curls surrounding her round face.</p><p>“Well, um… I see Josephine has wasted no time dressing you up, Inquisitor,” he said. He rubbed a shaking hand over the back of his neck. He wasn’t particularly skilled at acting casual. Eira tugged at the jacket, self-conscious. She wasn’t sure what to say to the man, in all honesty. She had avoided him since their fight about the Templars, but in their last conversation in the Haven chantry he was surprisingly tender. Unless she had imagined it. Which wouldn’t be a first, for her. She had embarrassed herself more than once in her youth, making assumptions about others’ motivations. </p><p>“It, ah, doesn’t suit me, really,” Eira said. She had no right to judge his awkwardness, really, not with her clearly evident discomfort.</p><p>“What? No, I… you look… ah…” Cullen said, trying to find words. His pale face was distinctly red. Leliana rescued him.</p><p>“I think Josie has done a wonderful job. But now that you’re here, shall we begin?” Eira was all too eager to end the conversation and turn their attention away from her appearance. She waited, then realized the leaders-- no, her advisors-- were likely waiting for her to begin.</p><p>“So. What… ah, what do we need to focus on first? What are the Inquisition’s priorities at the moment?” She tried to think about her conversations with Deshanna, about what she would have said if she and Eira were meeting with the clan’s <i>hahren</i> to make a decision.</p><p>“Our main priority needs to be finding as much information about this Corypheus as we can,” Cullen said. </p><p>“What do we know, other than that he wanted your mark?” Josephine said, motioning to Eira.</p><p>“Anchor. He called it the Anchor,” Eira said, looking down at her hand. Cullen leaned on the edge of the grand table. </p><p>“We know who he’s working with. The Red Templar was Raleigh Samson. I knew him back in Kirkwall. He had been caught up in some illicit dealings early in his career, and the Order discharged him. We crossed paths again years later. I never found out what happened to him after I recommended the Order deny him reacceptance.” Cullen sounded regretful. He knit his brows together in pain and pressed his hands against his dark-bagged eyes.</p><p>“Did he seem like the type to join up with a… an ancient god creature?” Eira asked.</p><p>“I never saw any indication of extreme beliefs in him. He mostly committed petty crimes, and was connected to the Kirkwall black market,” Cullen said. </p><p>“He may have joined Corypheus to secure a reliable source of lyrium,” Leliana said. Eira looked to her, confused.</p><p>“Why would he need lyrium if he wasn’t a Templar anymore?” She asked. The advisors looked at one another, and Eira was sure she had just asked a very obvious question. Leliana nodded toward Cullen, who held his hand to his mouth, suppressing a yawn. Sweat beaded on his temples as he began, and his pupils were wide.</p><p>“Lyrium is extremely addictive. The body begins to depend on it after only a few doses. Those who cease taking it risk illness and paranoia. The cravings have driven many former Templars mad, or pushed them to dose with black-market lyrium. They usually kill themselves, in the end, by overdosing.” Eira gaped at him, stunned. This was apparently something everyone knew. And didn’t seem to care about.</p><p>“The entire organization just… They give them… <i>Su an’banal i’ma</i>.” Eira struggled to find the words for her growing sense of horror. “Why don’t they leave? Get it somewhere else? Why did Samson have to go to Corypheus?” She was trying to make sense of this all.</p><p>“The Chantry has a tight control on lyrium trade,” Leliana said. “Black market supply is inconsistent in availability and in strength, which make it dangerous to rely on and to take. In addition to the expense, of course.”</p><p>“Cullen, are you--” Eira began. She looked to him, eyes wide with her sudden realization. She felt a twinge of fear, imagining him suffering such a fate. </p><p>“The Inquisition has a stable supply of lyrium,” he said quickly. His voice was strained. He avoided looking at her, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.</p><p>“We should gather as much intelligence on Samson as we can,” Josephine said, scribbling on her board.</p><p>“My agents can track down his recent history. It’s likely he’s been making trades on the black markets, or sending someone in his stead,” Leliana said. </p><p>“That is likely our best option,” Josephine said. “I could potentially request aid from the militias in the Free Marches. They may be able to set a trap in the black markets if any red lyrium is being passed through. But that could tip Samson off to our interest” Josephine and Leliana looked to Eira expectantly. She realized they were looking for a decision. Or course they were, she was in charge now.</p><p>“I think it’s better to keep it hidden right now. Leliana should send agents,” Eira said.</p><p>“Very well, Inquisitor,” Leliana said, smiling at Eira. Eira had played the title over and over in her own head for most of the previous day, but hearing it aloud still brought a swell of pride within her. She was disappointed, of course, that she wasn’t returning to her clan. But to be an elf leading the Inquisition… she could do so much good for her people. </p><p>“We should consider Corypheus’s other leader as well. Master Pavus informs me she is a former slave of the Tevinter Imperium named Calpernia. He thinks she may either be a smuggler or a mage, but didn’t have any information beyond having heard her name in conversation several times.”</p><p>“My agents could investigate smuggling channels, see if anyone is familiar with her. Then we would have more information about her capabilities,” Leliana suggested.</p><p>“There are likely records of slave tradings in Minrathous, particularly for one who is as skilled as Calpernia must be. I could request help in identifying her,” Josephine said. Eira ground her teeth together, scowling. She hated the reminder of what the Tevinters did to her people. She hated the idea of working with them, asking them <i>favors</i>. But she had to admit, it was probably the best option. She had to trust Josephine. </p><p>“Josephine, I think… you should get their records,” Eira said through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Of course, Inquisitor,” Josephine said, placing a hand on Eira’s arm. </p><p>“If Corypheus is allied with Tevinter… Is this the beginning of a war?” Eira asked. The idea of war with Tevinter was terrifying, yes, but a part of her relished the idea of the destruction it would bring to the Imperium. Eira shoved the thought away with horror.</p><p>“I get the impression we’re dealing with extremists,” Cullen said.</p><p>“If Corypheus is really as old as he says… The Imperium today is not much like it was 1000 years ago. That Tevinter no longer exists, though I am sure they would shed no tears if the south fell to chaos,” Josephine said. Eira shivered at the thought. </p><p>“His dragon poses a larger threat than his connection to Tevinter,” Cullen said.</p><p>“Do you think it’s an archdemon? That would mean another blight,” Leliana said.</p><p>“We haven’t had any luck tracking down the Grey Wardens. Blackwall has unfortunately been working independently for some time, and has not been able to reach any contacts in the order,” Josephine said. </p><p>“Whatever the case, it will be essential to train the troops to contend with a dragon in a battle situation. We should acquire specialized protective equipment and siege machines,” Cullen said. “The former Templars and I should be able to teach the other soldiers techniques to minimize the impact of dragon fire. We also must consider the safety of Skyhold. I recommend that our newest recruits remain here to clear rubble and ensure structural stability of the castle. We’ll need to know what our options are for cover or retreat if we are attacked again.” He turned to look at Eira. </p><p>“Yes, that sounds good,” she said.  </p><p>“I also think we should be sending groups of soldiers to the immediate surrounding areas. They’re likely to be in disarray. We could earn a great deal of support if we’re able to stabilize the region, and it would show anyone watching us that we maintain a powerful military even after our defeat at Haven,” he continued.</p><p>“I will provide you with a list of the local nobility most likely to offer us support in exchange for our help,” Josephine added. Cullen frowned. Cullen and Josephine argued, then, about the best focus for the Inquisition’s relief efforts. Eira finally weighed in to agree with Cullen, that it was best to focus on highly populated areas where common people needed assistance, rather than specifically aiding local nobility in restoring their lands. By the end of the argument, everyone looked tired and Cullen looked sick. Josephine mercifully called the meeting to a close, with only a few parting instructions. Eira was cautiously pleased with her first official meeting as Inquisitor. She hoped she had earned herself an afternoon perusing the quickly-growing library. Tomorrow she would meet with her advisors to discuss the plot to assassinate Empress Celene, and, hopefully, a field assignment for Eira. Much as she enjoyed the castle of Skyhold, she knew that every day spent here doing nothing was another day later that she could return home.</p><p>“Inquisitor, could I have a word?” Cullen said. He looked nervous, though the sweat and trembling often had that effect. Josephine and Leliana left, and only Eira and Cullen remained.</p><p>“Inquisitor, I wanted to apologize. For the way I spoke to you after Therinfal,” he said. “I was… I wasn’t myself, not that that is an excuse. It won’t happen again.” Cullen certainly looked apologetic.</p><p>“Is this... because I’m in charge now?” Eira asked, warily. She needed to know if he was apologizing to Eira or to the Inquisitor. </p><p>“No!” Cullen said at once, looking horrified. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t mean it to sound that way.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Eira cocked her head to the side, looking for him to continue.</p><p>“I should have said something earlier, but I wasn’t sure how to begin. After everything that happened at Haven… well, I would rather say it now than not at all. You made the right decision with the Templars. It should not have taken me so long to realize that,” Cullen’s voice was soft. His brown eyes darted between her and his hands. Eira hadn’t expected him to ever agree with what she did. She stepped toward him. It seemed years ago that they had fought in Haven.</p><p>“You weren’t wrong to question me. If I’m going to be leading the Inquisition, I expect you’ll give me your honest opinion of my decisions. You <i>are</i> my advisor now,” she said, with a small smile at the end.</p><p>“You… deserved better than being yelled at, Lavellan. I won’t lose my temper again.” Cullen still looked worried as he looked at her. Eira had forgotten that he said her name correctly now, and found herself smiling.</p><p>“Cullen, I will forgive you on one condition,” she said, “call me Eira, <i>please</i>.” He looked startled, but broke into a grin to match hers. The tension left his shoulders as the two stood together, smiling at one another.</p><p>“Of course, Eira,” he said, chuckling softly. Eira realized then that her cheeks were beginning to flush red. His golden-brown eyes fixed on hers for one heartbeat, two, three, four. That he was handsome was a fact known to most of the young women, and some men, of the camp, if their giggling and stealing glances were any indication. But Eira hadn’t truly noticed until he had carried her through the storm. And <i>now</i>, apparently. Her smile faded slightly, but she didn’t look away from him. </p><p>“The escape from Haven... it was close. I’m relieved that you made it out safely. That-- ah-- you all did, I mean,” she said, stumbling on her words. </p><p>“As am I,” Cullen said softly. They stood in silence. Eira could feel the tips of her ears burning. It was as if the air in the room had gone thin, as she didn’t seem to be breathing correctly. He reached forward, then, and placed a hand on her arm. His grip was firm, as if he was worried she would leave before he had a chance to speak.</p><p>“What you did… you could have…” he began solemnly, seemingly unable to bring himself to mention her potential death. “I will not allow the events of Haven to happen again. You have my word.” Eira wasn’t sure what to say, and she was having trouble thinking straight when he was looking at her so intently. She nodded slowly, and he pulled away. </p><p>“I suppose I need to meet with Rylen now. Take care, Inqui-- Eira,” he said. Cullen gathered his notes and left the room. Eira closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing the fluttering in her stomach to stop. She wouldn’t dare leave and walk past Josephine’s desk until she stopped blushing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Varric sends a letter</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a week since Lavellan had been named leader of the Inquisition. Varric strode down the enormous hall. The Inquisition’s throne room was decorated with dusty wooden scaffolding, from a long-abandoned restoration project. The hall was bustling with people, mostly humans, bringing messages or doing work. He clutched the letter in his hand, carefully and solidly sealed with a gob of red wax. He needed to see this letter off personally, to ensure none of Leliana’s prying spies could open it first. It was a long shot, and he definitely didn’t want any of the blowback if she wasn’t going to agree to his plan. He ducked into the library tower, and nodded to the elf who sat at the desk in the bottom room. Solas did not smile, but nodded to him. He wasn’t a fan of the somber man, to no one’s surprise. He was reasonable and polite, and completely somber and academic. Varric would be surprised if he had ever done anything remotely fun or scandalous in his life. Still, he fought well enough, and that was more than adequate. They would be heading out together tomorrow, off to the Fallow Mire to track down a lost patrol of soldiers. The decision had been Eira’s, unsurprisingly. She seemed to be taking her new role as leader to heart, and showed it by avoiding everyone fervently. She had been unapproachable before, but now she had completely shut herself off from everyone. Maybe it was shock, maybe fear. Maybe some time away from the castle and the constant gazes would do her well. </p><p>Varric began up the winding staircase, slightly annoyed at the shallow, wide steps. A staircase clearly not built for the stout legs of a dwarf. He heard arguing as he neared the tower’s second floor. He recognized Eira’s accent, and the other belonged to a man. The Tevinter mage, probably.</p><p>“--can’t hold me accountable for the views of an entire country, Herald,” Dorian said.</p><p>“Accountable? Has anyone ever held you accountable?” Eira hissed back.</p><p>“I’ll have you know that I have never personally owned any slaves,” Dorian said. So, the Inquisitor was having this fight already. Well shit, that was worth waiting to send his letter. Varric slipped quietly into a nook between the bookcases and sat himself on a cushioned chair. He could clearly hear the loudly whispered voices in the alcove next to him.</p><p>“A magister without any slaves? How humiliating. Is that why they drove you out?”</p><p>“You southerners think all Tevinter mages are magisters. I was never a part of the Magisterium, it’s not the same!”</p><p>“Well if you’re so knowledgeable, surely you know what the role of a <i>Sael</i> is in a Dalish clan?”</p><p>“I merely meant to say--”</p><p>“<i>Ar eolasan na, durnatha. Fen’Harel ver na.</i>”</p><p>“Inquisitor, I came here because I wanted to help. Whether or not you like it, having someone on your side with knowledge of the Imperium will be beneficial to the Inquisition,” Dorian said, his fierce whisper becoming louder until the others in the library shot nervous glances in their direction. Varric got up from his seat, preparing to intervene if the argument escalated any further. </p><p>“But if you want me to leave, I will be in the next caravan out,” Dorian said. Eira sighed dramatically.</p><p>“Sylaise, grant me peace,” Eira said softly. “Stay, <i>ir abelas</i>. I did not come here looking to fight.” She sounded defeated, all the anger replaced with tiredness. </p><p>“I imagine you came here looking for books,” Dorian said, slipping easily back into his usual dry, sarcastic tone. Eira laughed bitterly at the absurdity of his joke amidst their fighting. </p><p>“Can you recommend any books on Elvhen history?”</p><p>“We haven’t acquired anything of interest, I’m afraid. Could I interest you in a history of Andraste? That seems to be the primary subject we have here.”</p><p>“Hm, fair enough,” Eira said. Both sounded tense, but neither sounded likely to begin a fight. There was silence, then. The others in the library resumed their work, with careful glances toward the pair. </p><p>“I left the Imperium because I did not agree with their views, Inquisitor. Please know that,” Dorian said, voice low and even.</p><p>“I should go,” Eira responded, voice flat.</p><p>“Of course, Inquisitor.” </p><p>Varric waited for Eira to walk by, wondering if she would notice him pretending to read. Fortunately for his errands, she was preoccupied, instead walking toward the spiral staircase that surrounded the tower. Varric waited a minute, then roused himself. As he left his alcove, he heard Dorian behind him.</p><p>“Hear anything interesting, Varric?”</p><p>“I make it my business to know what’s going on,” he said, turning to the man and shrugging.</p><p>“I do hope that means you’ll keep me up to date on the Inquisition gossip,” Dorian said, smirking. If he was nursing any hurts from his argument with the Inquisitor, he was hiding them well.</p><p>“I think I could do that. Maybe you can tell me what you see from this view of yours,” Varric said, looking over the balcony. Solas paced the circular room, and then Eira appeared from the stairway. The elves exchanged a quick word, and then Eira practically ran off.</p><p>“Well they certainly look uncomfortable,” Doran said quietly, peering over the railing. “How very interesting.” He stepped back, returning to the alcove in which he had clearly made a home for himself, and settled into a well-stuffed armchair. </p><p>“I’d better get back to what I was doing before I came over to make sure you and the Inquisitor were playing nice,” Varric said.</p><p>“She’s the one who started the argument,” Dorian huffed. </p><p>“Not my problem, Charming,” Varric said, smirking and waving his hand. Dorian bade him goodbye, and Varric continued up the stairs to the ravens’ tower. He did his best to avoid attention. He could be discreet when he needed to, years in the unsavory Kirkwall markets had that effect. He quickly secured a raven to send his letter. He needed one that could travel to Hossberg, no small feat. </p><p>Hawke’s last letter to him had been from Kirkwall, shortly before Cassandra had scooped him up for questioning. She had told him of the increasing anger and paranoia of the city’s Templars. He wondered, knowing what he knew now, how much of that was caused by red lyrium, rather than Marjana’s theory that they had been targeting her for the actions of her former lover. Not that it mattered, really. It was a shit situation either way. She had a way of finding herself into those. He hadn’t been surprised that she left Kirkwall. There had been break-ins at her home, scuffles in the street, threatening notes left. None of that would have sent Marjana running, of course. She practically thrived on violence. But when the Templars started targeting Bethany, Hawke had seen it as a step too far. She said Bethany had been starting to have horrible nightmares after the kidnapping. So Hawke left. She said she was taking Bethany to Weisshaupt, and that she planned to hang around the desolate country for a while after that. Keep her head down and all that. Of all the places to go, Varric didn’t think it was a good decision for her, given the way she flinched every time someone mentioned the man who shared a name with the country’s people. But then again, Marjana had never cared what he thought. He tied the letter on securely, and sent the raven off on its long journey. Whether Marjana Hawke was enjoying her time in the Anderfels or punishing herself by being there, he prayed to Andraste that she would come back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letters from the Fallow Mire</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>We’ve arrived in the Fallow Mire. The roads have been relatively clear coming down from the mountains, though we’ve met with some red templar patrols. It’s been harder to follow the roads as we got closer to the swamplands. The mud has been hard on the carts. I wanted to go ahead as a forward team, but Cassandra insisted we weren’t to leave the team setting up camp. She’s probably right, I know, since we don’t know what caused the patrols to lose contact. It’s just difficult, plodding along without being able to do much. But we’re here now. It’s humid, but much warmer than in the mountains. There’s a mist over everything, and it’s hard to see far ahead even during the day. This will make it difficult to find our people. Varric is worried about our ability to fight, since we can’t see far. Solas and I have practiced enough defensive tactics, I think we’ll be okay. We located a solid-enough patch of ground to set the camp. The requisition officer thinks we should survey the metals in the area, they might be useful for our smiths. I’ve seen a great deal of blood lotus growing, and I’ve ordered it to be collected and sent back to Skyhold. Our new alchemist should be able to make use of it. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’ve had a chance to scout the area with my team. There are some buildings, but they’ve been abandoned. There was some sort of illness, I think. We saw a man walking by one of the rifts. Cassandra said he was an Avvar, since he was covered in paint. He helped us fight off the demons to close the rift, and he wasn’t hostile to us. He said his chief wants to fight me. I’m going to have to, I think, since he took our soldiers hostage. I’ve tried to reassure Cassandra that it’s going to be okay. We turned back to camp, since it becomes dark here so early with all the mist.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Aside from the rotting houses there is little here. The pathways are muddy, and it’s easy to lose our way. We’ve found great pillars, with braziers and elaborate carvings. They light with veilfire-- which I suppose you haven’t seen. Solas says it burns where the Veil is weak, and it is reflecting some of the Fade in its light. It makes a blue-green flame. It lets out light like a normal fire, but it feels so cold. The first one we lit summoned demons that fought us. I stepped off the path during the fight, and all their dead hands dragged me down. The water here… there’s something evil about it. It’s full of corpses.They’re bloated and pale. But somehow strong. They move, fight. I don’t know how, but it must be some sort of magic. They pulled me under, grabbed me. I would have drowned if Cassandra hadn’t pulled me out. Anyone else who comes here, make sure they DON’T STEP IN THE WATER.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>We are going to take a day to recover before we continue through the Mire. I’ve breathed in too much water, and it’s foul, muddy stuff.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Inquisitor Lavellan</i>
</p><p>
  <i>__________________________</i>
</p><p>
  <i><strike>Eira</strike> Inquisitor Lavellan,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I must echo Cassandra’s apprehensions about you confronting the Avvar chief. Though I’m certain you will have already completed your plans by the time my response reaches you. I trust that you will do what is necessary. We have not trained together in some time, I realize. I must insist that we continue if you will be in such direct danger as you travel. You mentioned a keep-- I believe Hargrave is in the region. It has been unoccupied for years. From your earlier report on the state of the region, it is not likely that the Inquisition would post a permanent force at the keep, but the final decision on that matter would be yours. </i>
</p><p><i>I am troubled indeed by your reports of the corpses in the water. Solas is currently our expert on magical matters, and he will likely have theories on the matter. I spoke with Master Pavus to request his theory on the matter. Apparently, the man specializes in necromantic magics. What is more surprising is that he’s rather pleasant company. He’s requested you send </i>samples<i> back, if at all possible. He may be able to identify what sorts of enchantments were used. I wouldn’t judge you if you didn’t though. </i></p><p>
  <i>We are continuing our restoration efforts at Skyhold in your absence. We continue to accept refugees, some from as far away as the Storm Coast. There have been reports of darkspawn there, which is a worrying sign. The lands surrounding Haven and toward the south of Ferelden have been calm. Our soldiers are aiding in relief efforts in the regions. There are occasional reports of Red Templar activity, but they seem to be wary of engaging us yet.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>We’ve sent a team to the Hinterlands, in the meantime. Warden Blackwall would like to search for some traces of the Grey Wardens there. He has maps of Warden outposts, and he thinks we may find some indication of where they have gone. He’s been dispatched along with the Iron Bull, that demon Cole, and Dorian. They will be assisting in clearing the roads of any hostile forces while there.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I will send what assistance we can to make your return journey swift. Please send a report as soon as you have your news from Hargrave.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Be safe,<br/>
Commander Rutherford</i>
</p><p>
  <i>______________________</i>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <i>Cullen,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>We stormed Hargrave Keep. The Avvar chief there wanted to kill me to prove that Andraste was a false god, and that their Avvar gods were superior. He wasn’t swayed when I told him I didn’t believe in the Maker and Andraste. I’m sure he wouldn’t be overly fond of my Elvhen gods anyway. We fought, he and I. He called himself “Hand of Korth”, which maybe is a normal name for an Avvar. I made it through the fight with him, Cullen. He seemed particularly unused to fighting mages, so my electricity was useful. I will admit that you’re right, though. I’ll need more practice in close fighting. <strike>I’m not sure I’m ready for you to humiliate me in front of everyone at Skyhold</strike> Please be gentle with me during training. Any time Hand of Koth got close to me he nearly killed me. I’m pretty sure I only survived by fade-stepping away when he ran at me. The bruising on my face will probably be horribly yellow by the time I get back. I managed to kill him in the end. I didn’t want to, I meant to leave him alive. But he was so incensed at the idea. He kept attacking, far past when he should have. He ordered his tribe to keep our prisoners and to prevent me from leaving as long as he was alive. I hate that I’ve had to kill him. He’s hardly the first, I know. I hate that I’ve killed them all too. But this wasn’t a battlefield. He didn’t need to die. Pride is a dark thing. After he died his tribe let the prisoners go. My team escorted our soldiers back to camp, and we’ll bring them back with us to skyhold as we return.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>As for the keep, I’m not sure it’s somewhere we want. It’s in a poor state. The worst part is the swamp itself, though. The corpses continue to rise, particularly when the water is disturbed. I’m not sure where the Avvar were getting their water. We’ve had difficulty ourselves, the longer we’re here. We found writings out in the village, an apostate named Widris had spent time here. She was… she appeared rather crazed, at her end. She had been making deals with demons, apparently trying to create some sort of potion that would give her access to the Fade. She had constructed beacons throughout the Mire, lighting them seemed to excite the corpses in the nearby waters. They also summoned the demons to her. We killed the demons, but I fear she may have lay too much twisted magic into this place. If this were another time, I would suggest we do something about it. We probably have too much to worry about right now though. I’m trying to keep our priorities straight. I know that we can only do so much. So we should leave this place alone after we come back. There isn’t much here for us.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I am bringing someone back with us. One of the Avvar, who says he is a shaman of the Lady of the Skies. He wants to help us. He thinks I’m sent by his sky goddess to heal the rifts. It’s funny how different the Avvar are, and yet how similar his view of me is to the rest of you. I expect you all will be able to use his skills to our advantage, without trying to shove Andrastianism down his throat. You at least, Cullen, have yet to try to convert me, which I view as a positive sign. I suspect he will be the most use to you, as I don’t see Josephine sending him into negotiations in high society, and he isn’t a particularly subtle type. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>We are planning to start back to Skyhold tomorrow morning. We should arrive in a week, unless the condition of the roads has worsened. I’ve ordered anyone not returning with us to move to our camps in the Hinterlands and await orders. You can send them back, if you want. I just didn’t want them to wait here in this rotting, awful place. I am looking forward to returning to Skyhold. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sincerely,<br/>
Eira</i>
</p><p>
  <i>________________________</i>
</p><p>
  <i><strike>Inquisi</strike> Eira,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I am relieved to hear you’re okay. <strike>I’ve been worried</strike> Not that I think you can’t handle yourself. It would be tragic if we lost our leader to such a… such a needless confrontation. I am sure you performed admirably in your fight. Please, try not to let the chief’s death weigh on you. The life of a soldier is new to you, as it was to me once. Many young soldiers have difficulty with killing. There will be many more before we achieve our goal. You cannot hold yourself responsible for every life in this war.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>We will continue training back at Skyhold, of course. I will find a time in your increasingly busy schedule, Inquisitor. I suspect we will not be afforded a secluded space in the forest as we were in Haven, so we will be training on the grounds.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Josephine has been in much better spirits since your letters, it seems you two have become fast friends. How that woman delights in meeting with nobles all day I’ll never know. <strike>But if she is your friend, she must be</strike> But it seems she is friendly with all sorts, an admirable quality. That said, don’t let her catch you right away. We’ve had a few local nobility and one Orlesian all very eager to meet the Herald of Andraste, and they’re <strike>dreadful</strike> not the kindest. I suspect you’ll want a day to recover from your travels before you face them.</i>
</p><p>
  <i><strike>Commander Ruthe</strike> Cullen</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira and the Commander spar</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen had done his best to find a time to spar with the Inquisitor when the yard wouldn’t be choked with soldiers and messengers. He had considered finding a room to train in, to keep the many people of Skyhold from watching, but there was nowhere large enough to properly simulate a fight that wasn’t filled with workers. He had asked her to come late in the afternoon, when most of Skyhold was finishing their work and heading for dinner. There would be fewer people crossing the yard on their business. Eira had been clearly self-conscious during their sparring in Haven, although her skills were developing well. Either that or she was uncomfortable around him. He frowned, thinking about the possibility. Of course he wanted to believe otherwise, but he knew what a Templar meant to an apostate. And after their disastrous meeting following Therinfal, she probably thought him volatile. Which he had been, he reminded himself.</p>
<p>It would be best if he stayed away from her, remained professional. She had accepted his apology, and he had no more reason to seek her out. Not for personal matters, anyway. It was completely inappropriate, the way he thought about her. Watching her across the war table, dark curls falling across her pale neck. Slender fingers curled around the corner of a map. The way he wanted to gather her up in his arms, press her body against his. How he couldn’t pull himself away from her mossy eyes, not since that look across the Chantry. </p>
<p>“Commander Rutherford,” Eira’s voice came from behind him. She was trailed by the Arl of Redcliffe. Teagan Guerrin had come to the Inquisition some weeks ago to request aid in reconstruction. He had fairly quickly negotiated a deal with Josephine and Cullen, which awaited the Inquisitor’s approval. Cullen had expected Guerrin to return to Redcliffe, and had suggested as such. Surely he was needed back with his people, and the Inquisition would send word once the Inquisitor had made a decision. However, he had opted to stay. Cullen found him a reasonable man mostly, more pleasant than the other minor nobility who had come to Skyhold, but he had a sort of arrogance about him that had become quite grating the longer he stayed. He had been eager to see Eira as soon as she had returned, though she managed a day to recover. During the next few days, the Arl found himself by her side any time she wasn’t engaged with a meeting. Eira seemed to be enjoying the attention, Cullen had noticed sullenly any time he caught them walking across the grounds together, all smiles and laughter. He told himself there was no reason to be angry, as he <i>refused</i> to harbor inappropriate feelings for the woman, but it didn’t stop the jealous twist in his stomach. Eira approached Cullen, Guerrin close behind, and flashed her eyes wide, mouthing “<i>help</i>” silently.</p>
<p>“Arl Guerrin, I hope the day finds you well,” Cullen said.</p>
<p>“The Herald Lavellan,” Guerrin began, and Cullen noticed Eira flinch as he mispronounced her name, “has been introducing me to some of her friends around the castle.” He positively beamed. Eira smiled next to him, but looked up at Cullen again with desperation in her eyes. </p>
<p>“I’m afraid I must insist on having her time to myself now. We’ve a great deal of tactics to discuss. Perhaps you could find Josephine for dinner,” Cullen suggested. Guerrin argued against him, insisting he wanted to watch the two spar, but Cullen dismissed him again more forcefully. He left, with promises to find Eira again later. After he was gone from sight, Eira’s shoulders sagged.</p>
<p>“Thank you, I thought he would never leave me alone,” Eira sighed.</p>
<p>“You could tell him to leave,” Cullen said. He couldn’t help but smile. It was foolish, but he was relieved at her now-apparent dislike of the man. </p>
<p>“The Inquisition needs support from the nobility. A few days of dull conversation are a small price to pay for that,” Eira said. She readied herself to spar, removing her Inquisitor’s jacket and selecting a staff from the ones Cullen had brought. </p>
<p>“You truly are the leader we need, Herald Luh-VEL-len,” Cullen said, mocking Guerrin’s mispronunciation of her name. Eira laughed even as she swung the end of her staff toward him. He caught it easily, laughing along with her. Her eyes sparkled. He felt his breath catch as she looked at him. Maker, he needed to get himself under control. He couldn’t entertain such a boyish infatuation with the woman who was his direct superior. He readied himself to fight, then.</p>
<p>“Same rules as before, Eira. I’ll be challenging you with a variety of fighting styles, you need to withstand as long as you can. I don’t expect you to land a blow with the staff, just to defend yourself. No magic.” Eira’s demeanor changed immediately. She looked smaller, shrinking her shoulders forward and tugging her arms in toward herself without thinking. The smile faded from her face. </p>
<p>“I will be gentle, Inquisitor,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips. He must have been imagining the tips of her ears growing red as she moved herself into a readied position. Wishful thinking. He began then. They worked through fight after fight, Cullen taking care to challenge Eira without simply overpowering her. She did well, really. She was doing better at anticipating his attacks, though she sometimes lacked the strength to block his blows. They fought on, collecting a small group of onlookers. Cassandra and Varric cheered for Eira every time she rebuffed his advances. Several soldiers cheered as well, seeming particularly pleased when Eira swung her staff into his chest with a thud. He should resent their traitorous disloyalty, but it was difficult to think of anything but the way her body moved around his. She was growing tired, he could see her chest heaving and her limbs slowing. He felt sweat trickle down his own brow, for once not from the intensity of his cravings. </p>
<p>He had swapped his shield for a longsword, gripped in both his hands. He advanced steadily against her, flowing between forms as he brushed her attacks aside. He let himself end in the Fool’s Guard. Eira was just skilled enough to recognize the opening, but not seasoned enough to see that he was baiting her. A light of mischief glinted in her eye as she yelled <i>“Now!”</i> and plunged forward. Cullen stepped backward to adjust his stance as he blocked her blow, and found his legs colliding with something. Eira lunged forward, pushing her hands against his chest. He couldn’t move his feet backwards to stop himself. Cullen felt his body fall backward, knees hinging over whatever had blocked his path. Eira tried to pull back but he grabbed her wrist and tugged. Her eyes grew wide as she fell forward toward him.</p>
<p>His shoulders hit the ground with a thud, and Eira toppled onto his chest, her hand clutched tight in his against his body. She lay on top of him, forearms resting against his chest, back arched as she pushed herself up to look at him. Both he and she breathed heavily from the exertion of their fighting. For just a moment, he had to resist the urge to reach his hand up to her waist and hold her tight against him. She laughed, a wide grin splitting across her round face. Another laugh from down near his feet too-- where Varric was righting himself from his hands-and-knees position. So <i>that</i> was what he had tripped over. His first instinct was annoyance that the dwarf and elf had played such a dirty trick on him, but it was so difficult to feel angry when Eira was laughing so sweetly, when she was so close to him. He laughed, too. Cassandra began scolding Varric, lecturing that Eira would never learn properly if they kept distracting themselves with foolish pranks, but even she sounded amused. </p>
<p>The moment stretched out for hours, her body warm pressed against his. The waves of her brown hair tumbled downward, pulled from her plait, tickling his neck. She smelled fresh, herbal. This close he could see the way her darker freckles were backed by a fainter smattering along her cheeks. See the way her scar cut across her thick, dark brow. Admire the warm brown flecks in her huge green eyes. Cullen could spend years like this, drinking in the sense of her. It was better than anything he had ever felt, more intoxicating than lyrium. She stared back, lips gently parted and cheeks growing pink. </p>
<p>“You two need a minute?” Varric asked, yanking Cullen from his reverie. Eira’s face grew red, and she hastily pushed herself up and off of Cullen. Withdrawal hit him, a gouging pain behind his eyes and a twist of nausea in his stomach. His face soured as he got to his feet. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to massage away the ache. The ever-present craving clawed itself forward in his mind, only this time he wasn’t sure if it was for the drug or the woman before him.</p>
<p>“That was a dirty trick, Varric,” he said, trying to move the conversation away from his entanglement with the Inquisitor.</p>
<p>“Have I ever played fair, Curly?” Varric teased, and Cullen scowled at the nickname. It brought back too much of Kirkwall, too much darkness. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry Cullen,” Eira said. Her voice was teasing, but her eyes were worried. This was unexpected. Far from hating him, she seemed concerned that he was angry. He felt weak, with her eyes fixed on him.</p>
<p>“Don’t be,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, “I’ll just make up for it the next time we train.” Eira’s expression relaxed, and she was once again all laughter and light. The few soldiers watching scattered as he shot a dark look in their direction. He excused himself, then, leaving Eira conversing with the dwarf and Cassandra amiably. He returned to his quarters, settling at the desk littered with supply reports and requisitions. He couldn’t focus on his work, though. All he could think about was the way Eira had looked at him, the way she had felt with her body pressed against him, the way her lips might feel against his… Andraste preserve him, he was in trouble.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just a bit of shameless fluff, before things get complicated again</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yet another chapter of self-indulgent fluff</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira wandered out to the gardens, clutching a heavy book under her arm. The ironically named <i>Brief History of Southern Thedas</i> had been recommended by Josephine at the end of the war council earlier that day, as Eira had expressed frustration about her lack of familiarity with the local political titles and figures. She had located the book easily enough, and considered curling into a chair in Dorian’s alcove. The two had fallen into a cozy truce during the hours Eira had spent at the library tower over the past two weeks. Dorian had made a peace offering, sending her a book on the Elvhen settlement of the Dales. After that, she began sitting by him and reading, and occasionally talking with him. He really wasn’t that bad of a man after all, even if he was a <i>Vint</i>. And despite her initial reluctance, she did appreciate his dry sarcasm. But when she had ventured to his usual haunt she found it empty. And while it wasn’t <i>his</i> space, technically, it seemed so rude to sit there uninvited. So she wandered to the gardens instead, hoping to find a spot to sit under the vine-laden trellises where she wouldn’t be bothered. She wasn’t hiding from the eyes of the Inquisition’s followers anymore, but she did sometimes miss being able to walk anywhere without being saluted. </p>
<p>She had eased into her role at the war council as well. Her voice was firm now, and she was confident while demanding reports from her advisors. They had discussed local Ferelden politics, including the not-unexpected marriage proposal from Arl Guerrin. Eira had shot down the suggestion immediately, though that did not stop Leliana and Josephine from teasing her mercilessly. They had planned a memorial to be built for Haven, as a culmination of the reconstruction efforts of the area. A route through the mountain passes was discussed, with Leliana winning out in her insistence that having a secret pass that few knew about was an incomparable advantage, particularly in swift information gathering and movement of spies. Eira had laughed until her sides hurt while they discussed Varric’s request to Jospehine “Scribbles” Montilyet regarding an unauthorized sequel to Hard in Hightown, and Josephine had grudgingly agreed to write to one of her friends at an Antivan publishing house. Then the conversation remained light as Cullen reviewed a letter from King Theirin requesting aid in finding Venatori spies within the royal estates. Leliana had insisted on sending a spy to root out the intruder. Cullen had asked what sort of mischief she was planning, but she would only say that it had been so long since she had seen her dear Alistair and Lucija. Cullen had groaned, and seemed eager to move the conversation on to the reports of darkspawn activity along the Storm Coast. They had argued back and forth, until it was decided that Eira would travel there with a small team to try to locate the source of the darkspawn. And, apparently, to treat with a group of Andrastian cultists calling themselves the Blades of Hessarian. </p>
<p>The preparations had been agreed upon and Eira was making to leave, when Josephine brought up another matter. The Inquisition had received a letter from Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan, requesting aid in fending off bandits near Wycome. Cullen had insisted at once that Inquisition troops be sent to protect the clan, and Eira had agreed. What bothered her most, though, was that Deshanna hadn’t written to her, or even mentioned her by name in the letter. She had folded the letter up into her pocket before leaving the meeting, and had decided then to distract herself from her troubled thoughts in a history book. </p>
<p>Eira smiled at the cool breeze as she wandered into the gardens, book in tow. Mother Giselle flashed her usual enigmatic smile to her, then continued preaching to the small group of followers gathered before her. Eira walked on, following the path through the hedges and toward the benches laces with specks of light. She rounded the corner and was surprised to see Dorian, sitting at a table covered with small wooden game pieces. Across from him, his back to Eira, was Cullen, immediately recognizable from his fur-shouldered mantle and his crown of blond curls.</p>
<p>“Ah, Inquisitor, are you here to watch my rousing victory against our Commander?” Dorian asked, theatrically motioning toward the game board before him. </p>
<p>“Please, Dorian, you won’t distract me from your blatant cheating that easily,” Cullen replied, picking up one of the pieces and placing it decisively across the board. </p>
<p>“What a rude thing to say, Cullen. I, personally, find our Inquisitor’s beauty and charm to be far more captivating than the alleged lapses in rule adherence of a Tevinter man,” Dorian said. Eira blinked in surprise, trying to parse the meaning amidst the flowery words.</p>
<p>“You’re changing the subject. This has nothing to do with how attractive Lavellan is,” Cullen said. </p>
<p>“So you agree? You think she’s attractive?” Dorian said, waggling his eyebrows as he looked to Eira. </p>
<p>“That is <i>not</i> what I… she’s my <i>superior... Andraste preserve me</i>,” Cullen groaned, bringing his palm to his forehead. “Would you <i>please</i> just make your move, Dorian?”</p>
<p>“I think you’ve tormented him enough, Dorian,” Eira said. Cullen whipped around in his seat, face beet red.</p>
<p>“Eira! I... how long have you… I mean…” Cullen stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.</p>
<p>“I was just looking for a quiet place to read. I didn’t mean to intrude,” Eira said, cheeks flushing pink to match the Commander. </p>
<p>“Nonsense! You can witness my glorious triumph,” Dorian said, motioning to the game board.</p>
<p>“Hardly. I’m four moves away from beating you,” Cullen said, regaining his confidence. “Even if you <i>removed one of my pieces while I wasn’t looking,</i>” he said, sternly pointing to one of the pieces at the side of the board. Dorian shrugged, and gave Eira a slick grin as he replaced it. The men continued on, though Eira had no idea what they were doing as they picked up pieces and moved them to different squares on the board. Several moves later, Dorian groaned and admitted that he lost. Cullen looked confident and more than a bit smug. Dorian whined as he left in a huff, saying something about needing to speak with the Iron Bull and not being able to stay any longer. Eira managed to hold back her laughter until Dorian was out of earshot, but only just.</p>
<p>“A bit of a sore loser, huh?” she said to Cullen.</p>
<p>“I think it’s all theatrics. If he were really angry he’d be quiet,” Cullen replied. “He’s a bit like Varric in that way.” </p>
<p>“I guess you’re right,” Eira said. She shifted her weight, trying to keep from looking nervous. Cullen motioned to the seat across him.</p>
<p>“Do you play?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea what you’re playing, to be honest,” Eira admitted, curling the end of her braid around her fingers nervously.</p>
<p>“Would you like to learn, then?” Cullen asked. Eira wasn’t particularly interested in the game, to be honest. She would have preferred to curl up and read her book. But Cullen’s eyes on her were so warm. The easy smile across his face was unusual for him, but in the best way. He looked healthy. Gone was the sheen of sweat, the running nose, the pained grimace on his face. His face, usually sickly pallid, was gently pink at his cheeks and lips. Health certainly suited him. She had thought him handsome before, but now he was radiant. And so, despite her indifference toward the game, Eira found herself sitting across from him as he instructed her in the correct way to move each piece. She did her best to focus on his instructions, though the sunlight catching on his slicked-back blond curls was not at all helpful. They began a game, moving slowly as Eira pondered her moves carefully. Cullen thought through his longer than he had seemed to with Dorian, and she wondered if he was trying not to win too quickly. The first few turns were silent, except for Eira’s asking for reminders on how a piece moved. After several turns, she began to feel more comfortable in her rudimentary understanding of the rules, so she ventured a conversation.</p>
<p>“This is like a war game, then? Is it anything like real battle tactics?”</p>
<p>“No, not at all,” Cullen laughed, looking up at her. “Battle tactics are simple, really. Troops move, or don’t, from a limited number of positions. You can change who goes where-- cavalry, pikes, archers-- but ultimately the battle is already decided at that point.”</p>
<p>“What? Should I be worried that my Commander thinks strategy doesn’t matter?” Eira asked, moving another piece on the board. Cullen quickly took it with one of his own.</p>
<p>“It does matter a bit, especially when one side has a particularly <i>potent</i> weapon,” Cullen said, looking at Eira emphatically. She scoffed, but wouldn’t deny that she was pleased to hear him describe her as effective in a fight, particularly when she had given him no indication that she was anything of the sort.</p>
<p>“Really, though, an army lives or dies on its belly. Keeping the troops adequately supplied is a logistical nightmare, especially when they travel out into the field. If the soldiers are hungry, sick, ill-equipped, or dead before the battle, then the fight’s already decided.”</p>
<p>“I never thought about that,” Eira said, genuinely interested. “So, your job is to... manage supplies?”</p>
<p>“In some sense, but I’m no quartermaster. I oversee training operations, recruiting, supply, and plan for our field campaigns. And I do give orders during battle.” </p>
<p>“Did you always want to be a soldier?” Eira asked.</p>
<p>“When I was 8, I told my sister Mia that I was going to become a Templar. My family didn’t believe me at first, but I was determined. I wanted to help people, protect them. I left home to join the order at 13.”</p>
<p>“Thirteen, that’s even younger than I was when I left home,” Eira said. “It seems so young to choose your whole future. Do you regret it?” She asked. Cullen’s face darkened into his familiar frown, and his eyes remained on the board.</p>
<p>“It is hard to say what my life would have been without the Order,” he said, all lightness vanished from his voice. Eira cursed at herself. He was finally cheerful and she’d just dragged him back to whatever it was that made him so gloomy all the time. She wasn’t sure what to say next.</p>
<p>“You left home… when? Older than 13,” he said, changing the subject.</p>
<p>“I was 16 when I left my first clan. Clan Ariss had too many mages, and that attracts attention from the <i>shem</i>-- er, humans. Clans are lead by a Keeper, who is traditionally a mage. When a clan doesn’t have a mage to be successor to their Keeper, they’ll often adopt a mage from another clan. So that’s how I ended up with clan Lavellan,” she said. Cullen moved one of his pieces into an obvious position, and flicked his eyes briefly between it and her. She wondered if he was baiting her to take it, as he had in their sparring match the previous day. She felt a flutter in her gut, remembering her body pressed against his.</p>
<p>“Was that difficult, to leave home?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Of course. I missed my family so much at first, but I missed the Dales too. Everything is different in the Free Marches, the sky, the plants, even the water. I was so homesick at first. But I was proud, too. Deshanna hadn’t chosen anyone as her First for years, and she chose me.”</p>
<p>“Her First. Josephine said that’s the person who is training to take over the clan, is that right? Why did Deshanna choose you?” Cullen asked. Eira was surprised, Josephine hadn’t mentioned him asking about Dalish culture. It was a nice gesture.</p>
<p>“The First trains under the Keeper, yeah. I met Deshanna when I was 15. Ariss’s Keeper, Darragh, he took me to <i>Arlathvhen</i>, that’s--”</p>
<p>“Where the clan leaders all come together to meet?” Cullen cut in. Eira’s surprise gave way to a wide smile. How much had he learned about dalish culture, exactly? And…for her?</p>
<p>“Yes, like that. And so he took me to meet the Keepers who needed a First. He said he wanted me to meet Deshanna, that we’d be good together. It was me and two other young mages who met with her. She had this fierce reputation, you know. Her daughter was her First, but she died years before of an illness. Deshanna had refused candidates for years after, saying that none of them were good enough. So she was pretty intimidating. But we went and met her around the fire one night. She told us a story from our history, about the Emerald Knights who defended the Dales during the Exalted March. She told of the great sword Evanura, and how Elandrin was the last to wield it. He stood against all odds, and fought bravely to the very end. His death was the end of the Exalted March, my people didn’t have much fight left after that.” Eira sighed, looking away from Cullen’s eyes for a moment. He watched her, completely enraptured. “So Deshanna told the story, and asked us what we thought. The first two, they told her it was wonderful and beautiful, and that it was an honor to hear her telling it,” Eira said. She realized Cullen had stopped moving pieces as she told her story, all his focus on her. Another flutter tickled her stomach as she noticed. “I told her she was wrong.”</p>
<p>“But... wasn’t she an experienced Keeper? Wouldn’t she know?” cullen said, eyebrows raised in surprise.</p>
<p>“She was. But she was wrong. Lindiranae was the last to wield Evanura, and I told her so. Darragh, I thought he was going to smack me, he looked so furious. But Deshanna was really pleased. She said no one had corrected her in the four years she had been telling that story incorrectly, either because they didn’t know or because they were too scared. She wanted someone who would stand up to her, I think, so it was a test. I left <i>Arlathvhen</i> with Deshanna, to clan Lavellan.”</p>
<p>“That’s a good quality in a leader. We’re lucky to have you with us,” Cullen said. Eira felt her face growing red, though she wasn’t sure if it was from his compliment or from realizing how handsome he looked. Hazel eyes under thick blond lashes, the way the scar on his lip pulled when he smiled. What would it taste like, to trace that scar with her tongue? They sat in agonizing silence. Eira dipped her eyes back to the game board, eager for any excuse to break from his warm gaze. Their game resumed, though Eira felt a new nervousness in her stomach every time she flicked her eyes upward and caught him looking at her.</p>
<p>“Well, Inquisitor, it seems I’ve won this game,” Cullen said, ceremoniously knocking over her king.</p>
<p>“I’m impressed you managed to hold off this long,” Eira teased, making Cullen laugh. </p>
<p>“You did well, it was your first game, Eira,” Cullen said, scooping up the game pieces and placing them into a wooden box. “I should go, unfortunately. Rylen will be waiting for me to review progress on training new officers.”</p>
<p>“We should spend more time together. After I come back from the Storm Coast, I mean,” Eira forced herself to say. She knew she would be angry at herself later if she didn’t. For now, she felt the sentence hang in the air between them, a twisting ball of anxiety in her throat.</p>
<p>“I’d like that,” Cullen said, voice low and smooth. Eira felt her stomach flip.</p>
<p>“Me too,” she said.</p>
<p>“You just said that,” Cullen said, cocking his head to the side slightly and grinning. Eira resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands or slink away in embarrassment.</p>
<p>“I, uh… yeah. Anyway, good luck with the training reports with Rylen,” Eira said, flustered. She got up hastily and hugged her book to her chest. </p>
<p>“Enjoy your reading,” Cullen replied, gathering his things to leave. Eira scurried away, her head swirling with thoughts of the Commander.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letters from the Storm Coast</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Cullen,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We’ve arrived safely at the Storm Coast. Some of the people we encountered along the way knew of us, and several were very grateful for our help in building watchtowers and repairing roads. I wish you could have been with us. We had a lot of dinners in farms and town halls. Varric was the star, of course, but lots of people were really happy to talk to Blackwall too. My clan avoided the worst of the Blight, I didn’t realize how bad things got in Ferelden. The villagers were really glad to see a Grey Warden. We didn’t mention that the rest of them were missing, of course. I just wanted them to have a happy night while we were in their towns. I didn’t enjoy Ferelden food much-- too much overstewed meat. But I was fond of the apples baked with butter and nutmeg and mace, so I suppose I’ll give you Fereldens some credit. Even if the Orlesians have better pastries, I’d rather share a table with the Fereldens. They’re much kinder. I promised I’d send thanks to the leader of our soldiers.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We’ve been on the Coast for a few days now. We haven’t seen much of those Andraste Hessarian cultists, which I’m kind of glad for. I’m not looking forward to another debate on shemlen religion that I’m somehow a figure in. I shouldn’t complain, I know. We’ve seen lots of darkspawn though. Horrible things. They look almost human or dwarven, but they’re really twisted and nasty. Varric warned me not to let their blood get on me, it’s really toxic I guess. Blackwall keeps telling me not to panic when we fight them. Easy for him to say, he’s fought tons of them before, I bet. We’ve been crawling through spider-infested caves for the past three days, but haven’t found wherever they’re coming up from. Hopefully we will soon. I’m not fond of the rain, it’s somehow colder than when it’s just snowing. It gets into you, soaks everything. I didn’t know I could miss snow so much.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cullen, tell me about Skyhold. What mischief are you up to while I’m away? Is Dorian still cheating in your chess games?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We’re tired of darkspawn. I think we’re going to track down those Hessarians tomorrow, have a bit of a break from the caves. Will write to you with more news.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m glad to hear you arrived safely, and that the people of Ferelden showed you such hospitality on your journey (I’ll ignore your insult to my country’s food). The Ferelden people remember the Blight well, even if it was a decade ago. We were hit hard, many lost homes and family. My parents didn’t survive the darkspawn sacking Honnleath. I didn’t experience much of the Blight, as I was still at the Kinloch circle. I did know the Hero of Ferelden, before she became a Warden. Lucija Amell. Leliana says she can’t find her anywhere, and King Alistair doesn’t even know where she is. It’s a shame, she would have been able to help us. If anyone could figure out what kind of a threat Corypheus is, it’s that woman. But we at least have one warden with us. It was a good idea to travel with Blackwall. I expect he will keep you safe. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Skyhold manages in your absence, but everyone is livelier when you’re here. We’ve had some new recruits from the villages of Ferelden, I believe you’ve inspired some to join us. Dorian’s cheating has been as bad as ever, but he makes up for it by losing most games to me. Cassandra has taken up sparring with me, since I don’t have an Inquisitor to train. I think she’s lonely without Varric, but don’t ever tell her I said that.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’ve received word from Lieutenant Chambreterre regarding your clan. Our forces arrived in well enough time to aid the Dalish in fighting off the bandits. Particularly well-equipped bandits. Several ran off, but most were killed, so we didn’t get a chance to interrogate any. Chambreterre says your clan has been friendly, though many are cautious around the soldiers. She says Deshanna spoke very highly of you, and that you are missed by all. The clan has much enjoyed hearing stories of your adventures. Keeper Deshanna seems particularly amused by your connection to Andrastian religion. I think her laughing every time you’re called the Herald of Andraste is beginning to annoy Chambreterre, based on the tone of her report. I’ve told the Lieutenant and her soldiers to stay with the clan until they hear otherwise. I am worried about leaving them unprotected, as we still don’t know if these bandits are part of something larger. By the way Cahambreterre described them, I suspect they are. Of course, I defer to your judgment on the matter. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I suspect you’re tired of hearing this, but please stay safe. The Blades of Hessarian are an aggressive group, and they might take offense to your supposed divinity. I will be glad for your next report.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Sincerely,<br/>Cullen</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cullen,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It’s kind of you to worry for me. But you do realize my first letter likely didn’t get to you until after I had met with the Hessarians, and your reply came a week later. I may not be a great fighter, but I’ve got a good team. They apparently follow a really strict hierarchy, so when I beat their leader I became in charge or something. So now they’re yours to command, Cullen. They actually seemed to accept me as some prophet of Andraste, except for their former leader. But he’s taken care of, and the rest of them honestly seemed pretty relieved. I’ve ordered them to help us sweep the area and root out the darkspawn, and we’ve narrowed it down to one or two caves where we think they’re coming up. We’ll try to seal them off somehow. Then there’s a favor we’re doing for Solas before we come back to Skyhold. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>My clan… there’s so much I wish I knew. Please keep the soldiers with them. Our hunters have never had difficulty keeping bandits off before, and if they’re organized… probably someone trying to get at me by attacking my family. <strike>Fucking shem can’t stand</strike> There are certainly humans angry that an elf has become so powerful. Cullen, thank you for taking such care with my clan. Nuvas ema ir’enastela, I’m grateful. Maybe some day Deshanna will meet you all. She would have a lot to say about the Inquisition, I’m sure. I wish I had half her strength. Deshanna wouldn’t blink if a dragon breathed fire over her head. If she were the one with this Anchor on her hand, she’d have already gotten Orlais and Ferelden and the Free Marches to line up behind her. Though I suppose it doesn’t matter, Josephine could polish a turd and have it fit for court. The real question is whether you can take an anxious mage and make her into a warrior. I don’t mean to insult your teaching, but it’s not an easy job. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I pray to Mythal they’ll be safe. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m sorry about your family Cullen. The Blight must have been awful. And maybe we are in one now, or maybe it’s something different. But it’s going to be bad, isn’t it? Reading about history, it’s all so far away. I always thought I wanted to live through something historic. <strike>What a stupid thing to</strike>... I feel ten years older than when this all began. We won’t let this tear everything apart. Your sisters and brother, are they safe? If there’s something the Inquisition can do, tell me please. Falon’Din guide us all. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Dar'eth,<br/>Eira</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I am not surprised by your success with the Blades of Hessarian. I have begun preparing for their arrival. Rylen has some ideas about where they can serve us without ruffling too many feathers. And of course, we’ll be preparing for your return to Skyhold. Josephine has been meeting with Orlesian diplomats and nobles <strike>and she suspects the attempt to assassinate Empress Celene will occur</strike> I shouldn’t put that in a letter. She has identified a likely time for the attack, and is readying the Inquisition. It won’t be for some time. Josephine wants us to gain influence before then, so we can step in if the political situation in Orlais becomes worse than it already is. Your travels have done much to gain us a reputation among the people of Ferelden. Yours, not Josephine’s. She has done a great deal to curry favor with nobility, but you are a woman of the people, Eira. Don’t rob yourself of that. We are lucky to have you to lead us. It’s strange you used a dragon as your example of Deshanna being somehow braver or stronger than you, because if I remember correctly you were the one who marched out into a burning village to fight one single-handed.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>But here. Our inability to contact the Grey Wardens is becoming increasingly worrying. All Leliana can gather is that the Wardens have all withdrawn from Ferelden and Orlais and headed west. There is an outpost west of Orlais, and perhaps that is their destination. I can’t imagine why though. Leliana has contacted King Theirin and he says there’s some sort of calling, like they would feel at the start of a Blight. He’s not sure. Amell left the Ferelden court weeks ago, to find out what was happening, but he hasn’t heard from her since. We’re running out of ideas for how to reach the Wardens. But the more we hear of Corypheus, the more I believe we need their assistance. We’ll have to discuss it when you return. Maybe you’ll see something we aren’t.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I will let you know the moment I get more information about your clan. My family are safe, I think. I haven’t written them since Haven, every time I try I just don’t know what to say. I should, I know. I will. Maker watch over them all, my family and yours. We will do everything we can to protect them.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Sincerely,<br/>Cullen</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>____________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>Josephine,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m writing you as we’re preparing to leave the Storm Coast and travel back to Skyhold. You should expect me and Blackwall and Varric. Solas has decided to travel back alone. <strike>We had</strike> There was <strike>an incident</strike> Something… Oh, I don’t know what to call it, Josie. Solas told me one of his friends was in trouble, who reached out to him in a dream. Of course I agreed to help. We went to a cabin that’s apparently known for being a hideout for apostates on the run. There were three mages there, who had summoned a spirit they thought would help them. I don’t even remember what they wanted from it. Solas was furious. I’ve never seen him feel something that intensely before. He actually growled at them. The spirit was trapped in a summoning circle as a pride demon. The mages asked us to kill it. They went to all the trouble of summoning it, but then they were too scared they couldn’t control it. I think they had been afraid for a long time. They didn’t know what else to be. We managed to break apart their summoning circle and Solas got the demon back to the fade. Which should have been the end of it. But he was so so angry. He said they had to pay for what they’d done, that the spirit was so mutilated and changed that it was gone. He killed them. I should have stopped him. I wish I had. Or that I tried. I was just frozen. I just watched as he… oh Josie, I’m so ashamed. I know people are going to die in this war, but I can’t just let it happen when I could stop it. Or maybe it bothers me because he didn’t seem like a killer. Like someone who would use murder as revenge. You told me, the first time he kissed me, you told me you were nervous about him. Maybe you were right. I don’t think I ever really knew him.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>So he’s walking back on his own. His idea. He said he needed some time to clear his head. I’m glad he suggested it, because I need some time away from him too. I was so excited to have another elf by me through all this, he honestly made me feel I wasn’t alone. I think I just needed him to be something so badly that I ignored that he wasn’t. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Anyway, we’ll be back in a week or so. I’m really excited to see you. I know we have a lot of work to discuss, but let’s find some time for tea together. I want to tell you all the nice things Blackwall has been saying about you while we’ve been travelling.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Your friend,<br/>Eira</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 32</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things get complicated when Hawke shows up</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Varric dressed in a hurry. He could smell dawn on the air, but the frigid rays of pink sunshine hadn’t yet begun to creep over the battlements. The messenger had woken him, just as he had ordered, the moment she arrived. He knew she’d come during the night, she always did like to be dramatic that way. He crossed the courtyard, his breath swirling in front of him and joining the mist that hung around the castle like a cold blanket. As he reached the stairway to the battlement he flagged down a messenger to wake and summon the Inquisitor. He’d have enough head-start to tell her what was going on before Eira reached them, but not long enough for the Seeker to find out she was here and raise hell. Hopefully. Varric kept a steady pace up the steps, until he reached the watchpost along the wall. Devoid of soldiers, as he had requested. Empty, aside from the long figure silhouetted against the rising sun.</p>
<p>Marjana Hawke.</p>
<p>She was a tall, muscular woman, kitted only in her house robe, Hawke family crest embroidered across the broad shoulders. Her tan face glowed in the gentle dawn light. Though she hadn’t taken the time to don her aggressive armor, she had still drawn the bright red kaddis across the bridge of her nose. Varric used to tease her about it, especially after she had told him it was dog paint. Mabari war paint, really. She used to be a handler, back when she was in Ferelden. But there were no dogs in Kirkwall. She had, on several occasions, threatened to paint his chest with it, call him her dog. From anyone else, it would’ve been a shockingly sexual joke. But he and Hawke, they didn’t work like that. And he had to admit, the kaddis made her look fierce, and it had become something of a personal brand of hers in Kirkwall. She turned to him, dark hair pulled back and shining in the sun, dark eyes crinkling as she smiled.</p>
<p>“Took you long enough, Varric. I’ve been freezing up here. What ever happened to dwarven hospitality?”</p>
<p>“It’s not my castle, Hawke. And you’re the one who showed up in the middle of the night,” he said, walking toward her. She bent forward and wrapped her arms around him, and they embraced. Only for a moment, before Marjana pushed him away.</p>
<p>“Don’t they have baths in this castle? You smell like dwarf,” Marjana said, wrinkling her nose in feigned disgust. She had always been uncomfortable with affection. Varric decided to let her change the subject.</p>
<p>“I see your time in the Anderfels hasn’t made you any nicer, Killer.”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t like me if I was nice.”</p>
<p>“You’re assuming I like you at all,” Varric said. Marjana punched his arm and he laughed. Just like old times. They traded a few more jabs, watching the mountainside turn to gold in the light of the rising sun. Finally, Varric decided it was time.</p>
<p>“Hawke, the Inquisition needs the Wardens,” Varric said. Marjana’s expression turned stony.</p>
<p>“And so you brought me here to sell out my sister.”</p>
<p>“You know I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust them.”</p>
<p>“Trust them? Has the Knight-Commander become a dear friend of yours?”</p>
<p>“It has nothing to do with him. Let it go, Hawke, it’s been years.”</p>
<p>“Nothing to do-- he’s in charge!” Marjana yelled. Varric winced. So much for keeping inconspicuous.</p>
<p>“He’s not in charge, Lavellan is. And I find it hard to believe you’ve come all this way to stick a thorn in Rutherford’s side, so drop the act.” Marjana scowled at him, but did not respond. That woman’s damned temper. Her face changed all at once as she looked over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“So you’re Her Holiness, I take it?” Marjana said. Eira looked back at her from across the battlement, then walked closer. She held out her hand, and Marjana took it and shook.</p>
<p>“You’re the Champion of Kirkwall, right? Varric’s told so many stories about you.”</p>
<p>“Ha, Varric’s a horrible man and a liar, don’t believe any of it,” Marjana said, smirking. </p>
<p>“Hawke has information on Corypheus, and she’s got a lead on finding the Grey Wardens,” Varric said to Eira, whose face brightened considerably.</p>
<p>“That’s great! We haven’t had any luck finding them. We’ll be happy to accept your help.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be so sure,” Marjana said.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here, Hawke?” Cullen’s voice boomed from behind her. He shivered, standing on the wall in breeches and a shirt. His hair was wild, sandy curls free of whatever he usually used to slick them back. Marjana turned to him, practically radiating hatred.</p>
<p>“I knew it wouldn’t take long for the Templar to come sniffing around,” she spat.</p>
<p>“Not when you’re yelling outside my quarters,” he replied, crossing his arms in front of him. He and Marjana glared at one another, both trying to puff their chests out to look intimidating. Eira tugged her curls nervously, looking between the pair and Varric. Varric shrugged. It was best to stay out of Hawke’s way when she got like this. She could turn on you in an instant if you got too close.</p>
<p>“You can go back to sleep, Knight-Commander, I’ll watch this apostate for you,” Marjana said, gesturing toward Eira. Eira began to protest, wide eyed, trying to remove herself from the argument she had become part of. Marjana and Cullen ignored her, staring daggers at one another.</p>
<p>“Like you did with that apostate from Lowtown? Remind me, how did that go?” Cullen shot back, voice dripping with ice. Marjana stepped forward and, with a yell, punched him in the mouth. Varric scurried between the two, pushing Marjana away from Cullen. Cullen touched his fingertips to his lip and then examined them, looking for the spots of blood that had indeed appeared. His expression was cold fury. </p>
<p>“War meeting. One hour. You two come, if you think you can keep her behaved,” he said, nodding to Varric. He turned and strode away, back toward his office. Eira looked to Varric nervously then ran off after him. Marjana stopped fighting against Varric.</p>
<p>“He shouldn’t have brought up Anders,” she growled. Varric wrapped his arm around Marjana’s waist, and started pulling her toward the steps. He’d need to get her settled in before the meeting. It was just like old times again, but not the good ones. It was the times after Anders, when a dark cloud clung to her. When she was angry and violent, her temper shorter than usual. When she raged and hated because she didn’t know what else to do. It was all the worst parts of Hawke. </p>
<p>“I know, Yana. I know.”</p>
<p>_________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Varric stood at the back of the room, leaning against the wall. Marjana was at the war table, standing next to a very anxious looking Herald. Eira tugged at the ends of her hair, brown curls tumbling down her back. Across from the women, Cullen leaned forward, his hands splayed on the edge of the table. His bottom lip was swollen and beginning to bruise red, with a cut where Marjana’s ring had made contact. He glared up at Marjana unfalteringly, even as he gave a report addressed to Eira. Leliana hung back, surveying the situation coolly. Josephine scribbled faster than usual, but otherwise seemed determined to ignore the angry Templar in the room. The air was thick with tension, like the oppressive heat too close to a fire. Cullen finished his report in a clipped, curt voice. Then, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, he began again.</p>
<p>“Which brings us to our guest, Marjana Hawke, Viscount of Kirkwall.”</p>
<p>“I resigned, Knight-Commander Rutherford. But I’m not here to fight with you.” Varric could see Cullen’s hands shaking as he clenched and opened his fists. “Varric said you’re fighting Corypheus. Who I saw die at my sword. And he says you need to find the Grey Wardens.”</p>
<p>“You know where the Wardens are?” Josephine asked, surprised.</p>
<p>“She has family in the Wardens,” Leliana said, studying Marjana intently, expression inscrutable.</p>
<p>“Her sister joined the Wardens in Kirkwall years back,” Cullen added. Eira nodded to her advisors.</p>
<p>“If you’re done speaking for me, Knight-Commander,” Marjana said. Cullen flinched at his old title, and appeared to be pressing his teeth together so firmly Varric thought they might crack. </p>
<p>“Bethany said the dreams were getting worse again, maybe a year after we thought we killed Corypheus. But there wasn’t a Blight. Then we started hearing that the Wardens were all gathering out west. We met with Luci and Alistair. We decided Bethany would go to Weisshaupt with one of Luci’s Warden friends and try to get us more information, Luci would try to get the Wardens around here from doing anything stupid, and Alistair would sit on his royal ass and keep up appearances pretending he didn’t fuck a witch and make a darkspawn baby or whatever that thing is.”</p>
<p>“You got a little off-topic at the end there, Killer,” Varric said, trying to stifle his laugh.</p>
<p>“You’ve been in contact with Lucija?” Leliana asked, surprised.</p>
<p>“I told her not to write you. Thought we should keep it in the family,” Marjana said. Varric knew she was trying to be comforting, but her cold tone was anything but. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I believe I’ve missed some history here,” Josephine cut in. “Who are we talking about, exactly? Certainly you don’t mean the King of Ferelden and his arcane advisor?”</p>
<p>“Arcane advisor?” Eira asked. She looked tired, bracing herself against the oppressive tension in the room.</p>
<p>“Lucija taught Alistair a great deal, though not about magic. I hear she stays close to him at court, and continues to offer her <i>wisdom</i>,” Leliana said, her voice playful and suggestive. Cullen’s face flushed red. </p>
<p>“Lucija Amell was one of the Wardens who ended the Blight in 9:31. Alistair married Queen Anora took the Ferelden throne soon after,” Cullen said to Josephine. “Leliana traveled with them during the Blight.”</p>
<p>“So why…” Eira began, not sure who she wanted to ask.</p>
<p>“She’s my cousin,” Marjana said, defensive. “I’ve known her my whole life.”</p>
<p>“You may look similar, but she is nothing like you,” Cullen growled, his teeth visible under his curled lip. Marjana laughed, cold and bitter. She leaned forward, palms on the table, mimicking Cullen’s posture. Her face was cruel mirth. </p>
<p>“I always told her you sounded like a sad little mabari, the way she wrote about you,” she said, “but I guess she always had a thing for lost puppydogs. Pathetic, if you ask me.”</p>
<p>“Enough!” Eira yelled, stepping forward and slamming her book onto the table. Several of the metal markers fell at the force. Cullen jumped back at the noise, standing back with eyes wide and shoulders curled forward. Varric had never seen the man look scared. Arrogant, angry, stoic, sure. Was this Inquisition shit finally unravelling him? Marjana kept her position, shoulders squared, eyes flashing with anger. The room fell silent, with everyone watching the elf. Her hand pulsed softly with light, it did that when she got emotional, Varric had noticed. <i>Good for you, Sparky.</i></p>
<p>“It’s clear there’s bad blood here. Commander, I expect better of you than to interrupt meetings over an old grudge. And you, Hawke. If you’re here to help me then fucking do it, instead of wasting time harassing my advisors. <i>Fenedhis</i>!” Varric let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed. Maybe the kid was growing a backbone after all. Marjana, surprisingly, didn’t yell back. She stared at Eira, surveying her through narrowed eyes. Varric waited, ready to step in if the elf didn’t pass whatever test Marjana was running through her head. After several long seconds, though, Marjana scoffed, and turned to address the advisors across the table.</p>
<p>“She’s laying low right now, up in the Crestwood. The other Wardens didn’t appreciate her attempts to go against the leadership. Shit loyalty, she used to be Warden-Commander. She says she’ll come back with us, but she needs an escort. She would prefer it be the Herald, but she’d probably come along with Rutherford too.” Cullen didn’t respond to Marjana’s baiting, or perhaps didn’t notice it. He stood with his head turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose, breathing quickly. </p>
<p>“Then I’ll go get her. We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss travel plans,” Eira said, managing a commanding voice. “Hawke, unless there is anything that can’t wait, you should go settle in for now.”</p>
<p>“You mean ‘get out of your way’,” Marjana said with another short, cold laugh.</p>
<p>“Yes, I do,” Eira said firmly. She levelled her gaze at Hawke, then Varric.</p>
<p>“I’ll show her around the place,” Varric said, stepping forward and offering his arm to Marjana with mock formality. She ignored him, instead huffing and striding from the room. She moved, as usual, with force, purpose, anger. Varric shrugged apologetically to the others, who were beginning to collect their things to leave. He turned and strode out after Marjana.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know what my deal is, but I have trouble picturing Hawke as anything but aggressive ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Chapter 33</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cullen struggles with his past at Kinloch</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: physical and psychological torture, sexual abuse, panic attack</p>
<p>TL;DR in the end notes, for those who choose not to read this chapter. The difficult content is above the break in the chapter, everything below is without CW</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen managed to hold together until the others were leaving. He dug his fingernails into his palms, trying to use the biting pain to keep him from slipping into the memories that had been hanging in the back of his mind. Marjana Hawke was a reminder of everything he had tried to leave behind. Seeing her here, in the place he had tried to make something new, was too much. He ground his teeth together, relishing the sick squeak as they rubbed. He was already on edge, ever since Hawke’s voice had woken him from fitful sleep. </p>
<p>When Eira had slammed the book on the table, though, he hadn’t been expecting it. He jumped, his nerves firing all at once. It had been loud, at Kinloch. He had spent days listening to the wails, the slams, the roars of the demons around him. He had listened, fear twisting in his gut when the sounds grew closer. But now, as then, he had no outlet. No battle to pour himself into, no way to discharge for the adrenaline in his veins. He crumpled inward, trying to hold himself together. He recited the Chant of Light, trying to use its words to focus his mind.</p>
<p>
  <i>Maker, though the darkness comes upon me</i>
</p>
<p>Eira sent Hawke and Varric on their way, and then the other three women had packed up to follow. </p>
<p>
  <i>I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm</i>
</p>
<p>Cullen walked to the stained-glass window, streaking colors across his face. The memory of spells flying, streaks of blue and purple energy singing his skin. He leaned his arm against the stone wall and pressed his forehead against it, eyes screwed shut. </p>
<p>
  <i>I shall endure</i>
</p>
<p>The grainy stone pressed into his elbow, like the pebbles of the circle floor had dug into the heels of his hands as he prayed on hands and knees. The memories came faster and faster. The whip. The clawing hunger. The blood over the stone floor. His friends’ screams. The gashes torn along his arms.</p>
<p>
  <i>What you have created, no one can tear asunder</i>
</p>
<p>The image of Lucija Amell with demon-black eyes, running her hands over his body the way he had always dreamed. Digging into his back with razor-sharp nails, gouging his flesh. Trailing searing kisses across his shoulders, down his belly, further. Sick bile in his throat as he felt his body react to her, betraying him, responding to his sexual fantasies twisted into nightmare. The hatred. The shame. The horror.</p>
<p>Cullen shook, breath coming in gasps as hot tears stung his eyes. He felt ragged, raw. Just one draught of lyrium would calm his mind. Just one sweet sip could help him forget. Panic flooded through his body with the flashes of memory.</p>
<p>The shackles around his wrists, cutting into his skin. The scars were still there, under his gloves. The stench of blood and shit and fear. The thirst, the desperate thirst clawing at his tongue. The needing, the desperate and violent withdrawals. The lyrium dripped onto the floor for him to lick up like a dog while the demon-Lucija laughed. The blinding flashes of light, the crashes of sound, waking him when he slept more than a minute. The exhaustion, piling up from days and days of hell. </p>
<p>“Cullen,” Eira said behind him, voice soft with worry. He gasped, her voice prying him from his own mind. He rubbed his shaking hands across his face, wiping away tears and sweat.</p>
<p>“I thought you left,” he said, voice low and shaking. He didn’t know what else to say.</p>
<p>“I wanted to ask… Cullen… I… are you okay?” she finished weakly. He drew a breath in and turned to face her. He set his face in the most neutral expression he could manage. Eira’s eyes were wide, lips parted. She looked so worried. So warm. So safe. </p>
<p>“Of course,” he murmured. He swayed slightly, trying to stand up straight, fingernails cutting half-moons into his palms. She stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t flinch away she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He leaned into her, burying his face in the mass of loose curls by her temple. Grounded himself in her herbal smell, rosemary and lemongrass, maybe. He focused on her, felt his breathing return to normal. The minutes passed, and Eira remained with him, arms around his shoulders. He had never wanted to burden her with this. He had tried to keep it to himself. But right now he was weak, so very weak. And she was there, his light in the darkness. Finally he pulled back, straightening his shirt self-consciously. </p>
<p>“Apologies, Inquisitor. I… lost my composure for a moment. I will ensure it does not happen again.”</p>
<p>“Cullen!” Eira protested, as he moved back to the war table to gather his things. “Talk to me, please,” she said, moving to place a hand on his arm. He stopped gathering papers, but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Humiliating. What must she think of him now?</p>
<p>“I’d rather not.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Eira said. Hurt. She pulled her hand away. <i>Maker, give me strength</i>. </p>
<p>“No, I…” he sighed, “I have a difficult history, some of it shared with Hawke. It’s something I’d rather not remember.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Eira said. She watched him carefully, her eyes bouncing between his. </p>
<p>“I… please, forget it,” he murmured, gathering his things and once again avoiding her gaze. She nodded, and watched him ready himself to leave. The panic was gone from his body, leaving only tired shame and humiliation. As always. He wanted to hide away, to bury himself in his work until there was nothing left. No fear, no shame, no feeling. Dig himself in so deep that he wouldn’t feel anything, let his very soul grow numb. </p>
<p>Except. </p>
<p>Except the part of him that didn’t want to. That was new. The part of him that genuinely believed in the Inquisition, that wanted to do good the way he had thought he was for years. The part of him that couldn’t hurt the woman next to him. She was all light and hope and warmth, and when she was with him he could feel those things too, for the first time in years. He couldn’t close himself away because if he lost her he would never feel light again. He needed her guidance, her friendship, her… best not to hope for more. To be near her, to serve her, that was enough. And so he couldn’t close himself away from it all. </p>
<p>“If you needed to speak with me, perhaps later,” Cullen said. </p>
<p>“I don’t need to, no, I ah… I just wanted to. Not as the Inquisitor, I mean,” Eira said, tugging the ends of her hair. “But it’s nothing, I can leave--”</p>
<p>“Tomorrow? I’ll send a messenger,” he interrupted, probably too curtly, but she smiled anyway. </p>
<p>“I’d like that,” she said softly. </p>
<p>“Me too.” A kinder memory flashed through his head. Eira’s sun-dappled cheeks, screwed up in concentration as she considered where to move her chess pieces. How hard he had tried not to win, wanting the game to last longer. Her laugh, <i>Maker</i> her laugh. Cullen clutched onto that memory, holding it like a candle in the darkness.</p>
<p>Eira gathered the few papers she had and left, with one last glance over her shoulder. </p>
<p>______________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eira fretted with her hair, winding it into a braided crown atop her head. She had wanted to forgo the gold circlet and Inquisitor’s jacket. She wanted her afternoon with Cullen to be, well, with him, rather than the Inquisitor with her Commander. She didn’t usually fret over her appearance much, but she needed to do something to soothe her nerves. Her stomach was knotted up in anticipation of seeing him, as well as in fear for him. The way he had been in the war room yesterday… she had never seen him look afraid. When he believed they were going to die in the Haven Chantry he had merely looked resigned, sad. What had Hawke done to him?</p>
<p>Eira took a shaky breath in and finished winding the ribbon around her braid. Better to focus on the good, rather than worrying about the bad. And what was good was that Cullen had sent her a note yesterday, asking her to meet him for a game in the gardens. Whatever else, he wanted to see her. Eira took one last moment to fuss with her clothing, then set out for the gardens.</p>
<p>Cullen was waiting for her, sitting at the small table, chessboard set upon it. He smiled and rose to his feet when he saw Eira. The flutter in her stomach as she approached was tempered with worry at his appearance. Health had suited Cullen so well, he had worn it like a balm across his pale skin. But today, the Cullen she had met in Haven had returned. He wore exhaustion across his shoulders as surely as the fur mantle over his grey plaidweave shirt, and as dark. The purple beneath his eyes was a compliment to his clenched jaw and his swollen lip. His brow glistened with sweat. Today, Cullen was sick. The sight of it, after knowing he could look any different, tugged at Eira’s heart. She wanted to embrace him, as she grew close. To clutch his body against hers and trail kisses along his forehead, temples, jaw, neck… Her desire to comfort him swirled together with her desire to have him, and she felt a pang of disgust with herself. They took their seats at the table, sunlight dancing through the leaves and onto his honey curls.</p>
<p>“How are you, Cullen?” Eira asked. Darkness flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced with a tired smile.</p>
<p>“Better, thank you.” His voice was clipped, short. He arranged the pieces onto the board, hands trembling slightly. He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. “Do you remember how to play?” </p>
<p>“Mostly. Don’t expect I’ll last very long against you, though.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense. You’re an intelligent woman.” Cullen smiled, warmer this time. He was beginning to thaw. They began to play, Cullen considering his moves as carefully as Eira. She was sure he was intentionally playing poorly. He grew lighter as they played, the tension leaving his shoulders.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you’re ready to leave tomorrow? You’ve only just returned, Eira.”</p>
<p>“As I assured you all at the meeting this morning, <i>yes</i>, I am fine,” Eira said, eyes leaving the game board to find Cullen looking at her. “Are you worrying about me?”</p>
<p>“I, ah, perhaps a bit.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, his nervous habit. Eira tried, in vain, to remind herself that of course he was worried, he was her Commander. It wasn’t personal. She shouldn’t be so foolish. But it was difficult not to be foolish when his pale cheeks were so coyly spotted pink. They played on, and Eira steered the conversation from her upcoming trip. Whatever had made Cullen so hurt yesterday, whether it was Hawke or Amell or something else entirely, Eira wanted to stay as far from it as possible. </p>
<p>They talked of their companions. Cullen complained of Josephine’s efforts to make him “presentable”, with Eira teasing him back. They talked of Dorian, who had become quite an object of affection for many of the young female soldiers, apparently. Cullen complained about how distractible they could be around him. Eira laughed at the irony. Cassandra had observed at least three young soldiers be pummeled by their sparring partners when their attention wavered as Cullen walked by. Eira suggested Cullen indicate somehow that Dorian would have no interest in any young woman, but he laughed that he’d just be trading one problem for another. They talked about Eira’s dislike for Ferelden food, Cullen filled with mock-indignation until he was placated with an offer of an authentically cooked Dalish meal. They talked of the letters Josephine had been receiving, one or two a week, from hopeful suitors for the Commander. He groaned with frustration as tears of laughter slipped down Eira’s face. <i>They should know I have more important things to do than play in a matchmaker game</i> he had said. Which was obviously true. There was no reason for Eira to dwell on it. None at all. Best to push the thought aside altogether.</p>
<p>Their game finished, finally, after Cullen couldn’t avoid closing in to defeat her. She conceded, and he seemed to hesitate, unsure if he should put away the pieces.</p>
<p>“Play a Dalish game with me, Cullen.” He accepted, looking in confusion to see if she had brought a game to play. Eira settled herself back, and began.</p>
<p>“It’s a simple game, meant to entertain children while traveling. Most of our games are like that, and don’t require lots of pieces like this,” she motioned at the chessboard, “though cards and dice are common too.” Cullen nodded. “This one’s called <i>Green Glass Door</i>. We’ll play in Common, but we used to play mostly in Elvhen. The goal is, you need to figure out what things can go through the green glass door, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”</p>
<p>“Eira, what in Thedas is this?”</p>
<p>“No, sorry, Thedas can’t go through the door. Eira can’t either. But Cullen can.” Cullen stared at her, with a confused blink. She smiled back. “Come on, guess something else. That’s the only way to figure it out.”</p>
<p>“Er… can Dorian go through the door?”</p>
<p>“No, he can’t. But Varric can.”</p>
<p>“What about Cassandra?”</p>
<p>“She can. It’s not just people. A fennec can go through, but not a nug. Elfroot can go, but not embrium. Keep trying.” Cullen gave her a blank look, clearly considering whether he was going to participate in such a ridiculous game. But he continued guessing. He feigned indignation and accused her of making arbitrary decisions to toy with him. She pulled him along, coaxing a smile from him as they continued. They both laughed until they couldn’t breathe. Finally, Cullen had caught on, and Eira moved to the next game, <i>shemlen</i> numbers. After that was black and white. Once he had figured out the trick to that game, she began explaining another, but Cullen cut her off. </p>
<p>“I think you’ve teased me enough for one day.” His eyes were sparkling, a grin plastered across his face. Eira felt a swell of pride that she had been the one to do that to him. She realized the shadows were stretching long over the garden, orange-tinged with the setting of the sun.</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize I’d kept you so long! <i>Ir abelas,</i> Cullen.”</p>
<p>“No apologies needed. But I should get back to work. It’s for your Inquisition, after all.” Cullen stood and stretched. Eira watched for a moment, enjoying the way his body moved, before realizing she was staring and standing in a hurry. Eira dared to step closer to him, then. She took his hand, sliding her fingers around his dark leather glove. She told herself it was an act of friendship, nothing more.</p>
<p>“It’s good to see you smiling, Cullen.” Eira squeezed his fingers gently. His expression darkened, and he tightened his grip on her hand.</p>
<p>“Come back from Crestwood quickly, Eira.” He held her gaze for a moment more, before turning to walk away, letting her fingers slip from his.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TL;DR<br/>Cullen panics as he remembers his experiences at the circle tower. Eira helps him through the worst of it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Chapter 34</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An Amell family reunion</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira eyed the entrance to the cave warily, noting the tattered drapes marking a smuggler’s hideout, or what used to be one. This is where the Grey Warden was hiding out, according to Hawke. Travelling with Marjana Hawke had been an intense experience. It wasn’t all bad. She joked and laughed to rival Varric, and Eira had to admit she was often very entertaining. But it was difficult to relax fully when the first thing Eira had seen of the woman was her aggression. Her temper hadn’t surfaced again, not since leaving Skyhold and Cullen behind, but the memory of their confrontation gnawed at Eira. She didn’t know what had happened between the two, but given their dispositions Eira was inclined to believe Hawke was at fault. But as much as she wanted to confront the woman about it, she needed her help. There was little hope that her cousin would aid them if the Inquisitor and Marjana had a falling out before she was even introduced. So Eira had stuck with Blackwall, brought along to hopefully put Amell at ease. Solas had come as well, but Eira avoided conversation with him very deliberately. They had been distant since his return to Skyhold following the incident with his spirit friend, and Eira preferred it that way. He seemed to realize and respect that, at least.</p><p>Marjana beckoned them to follow as she ducked inside. They traveled down hallways winding around stalagmites and stalactites, looming around them like great stone jaws. The damp walls flickered in the light from Solas’s staff. Finally they came upon a sort of hollow, lit with warm torchlight. Marjana stopped suddenly, her body completely frozen. </p><p>“Luci! It’s me, shit!” she called. Her voice was strained, as if even moving her mouth were a great effort. Footsteps came from the side of the hollow, and another woman came forward. She waved her hand and muttered, and Marjana’s body began moving again at once. The woman moved in to embrace Marjana, who returned her hug with an irritated expression.</p><p>“Sorry, Yana, you knew I’d have to set traps,” she said, apologetic smile on her face. This had to be Lucija Amell. The two women could have passed for sisters. They had the same soft brown skin, dark eyes, and thick brown hair. They shared broad, straight noses, thick brows, and soft, round jaws. Luci was as tall as Marjana but slighter of build. The biggest difference was their expressions. Lucija was bright and warm, playful even. Marjana was certainly not.</p><p>“You couldn’t set it to paralyze anyone <i>but</i> me?” Marjana complained. Luci laughed, and pushed her cousin playfully.</p><p>“What’s a few seconds of displeasure to the Champion of Kirkwall?” Marjana sighed and rolled her eyes, earning another laugh from her cousin. Eira stepped forward, interrupting their reunion. </p><p>“Right, forgive me. You’re the Inquisitor, I presume?” Lucija held out her hand for Eira to shake, which she did. Eira was surprised the Hero of Ferelden had such soft hands, given her martial legacy, but she supposed a mage must have avoided most of the heavy fighting.</p><p>“You’re not what I expected, to be honest,” she said, voice still light and pleasant.</p><p>“Well, what were you expecting?”</p><p>“I’d heard you were a mage, and I assumed it was rumor spread to make the Inquisition look bad. We’re not usually allowed in positions of power, with the Wardens as the only real exception. Maybe things really are changing.” Lucija looked at Eira, but her thoughts seemed miles away. She snapped back to the present when Varric coughed. “Right! Where are my manners? I’m Lucija Amell, and it seems you’ve already heard of me. And you and your friends are...?”</p><p>“Eira Lavellan, ah, <i>Inquisitor</i> Eira Lavellan. I brought my friends Solas, Varric Tethras, and Warden Gordon Blackwall.”</p><p>“Another Warden! It’s good to meet someone else who isn’t losing their mind over this Calling. Are you from the Orlesian branch? Or the Free Marches? I’d guess Ferelden, but I’ve met them all already,” Lucija gushed. Blackwall brushed her off, seeming embarrassed by the attention.</p><p>“Orlesian. It’s an honor to meet you, Amell. You’re quite a legend,” Blackwall said. Lucija thanked him.</p><p>“You aren’t excited to meet me, Hero? I’m hurt,” Varric said, grinning.</p><p>“After everything Yana’s written about you? I’d say I’m cautious at best,” Lucija answered, giving him a wink. The three shared a moment, then. Lucija fit right in with her cousin and Varric, like old friends. Eira gave them a moment to talk before interrupting them again.</p><p>“Hawke says you’re willing to come to Skyhold with us.”</p><p>“I think the problems the Wardens are facing are related to yours, Inquisitor.”</p><p>“Eira, please. And how… the Wardens have something to do with Corypheus?” Eira asked.</p><p>“My cousins got wrapped up about a year ago in some conspiracy. Or, I guess it wasn’t. It’s a long story, and Yana’s to tell. But the part you need to know is that they ended up fighting Corypheus. He was some sort of demon that the Grey Wardens had sealed away. Poor Beth told me it was hell being near him, that she could hear the Calling so loud the others had to restrain her so she didn’t hurt herself. He must have been causing it somehow. We thought he was dead, after Yana killed him. When I heard he was back… Well, if he can mimic the Calling, maybe he’s like an archdemon somehow. Killing them takes more than just injury. If Corypheus is the same way, maybe he didn’t die.”</p><p>“So he’s an archdemon, then?”</p><p>“Maybe, but I don’t think so. He does have some of their powers though. I think he’s behind what’s happening with the Wardens now.”</p><p>“<i>Ir abe--</i> I’m sorry, but I’m not familiar with what the Calling is.”</p><p>“The Wardens started hearing the Calling just before that Breach in the sky opened. It’s a sort of… a sort of whispering in the back of your head, a song, it pulls at you more and more until it drowns out everything. The darkspawn taint in us, it eventually destroys us. It usually takes maybe 10 years, maybe 20, 30 even, if you're lucky. But every Warden is hearing it right now. Usually, when a Warden hears the Calling, she goes to the Deep Roads to die fighting the Darkspawn. Warden-Commander Clarel, she’s Orlesian, she apparently thought the thing to do was to try to push into the deep roads, try to root out whatever is happening. I heard that the Wardens have been doing some pretty dark things to get ready for that fight.” Lucija’s expression turned dark, for the first time in the conversation. “Blood magic. It never ends well.” She shook her head and sighed. “Anyway, I met with them, told them it was a bad idea, got myself branded a traitor, and came here.”</p><p>“I still think Alistair should have <i>done something</i>,” Marjana complained.</p><p>“Look, I’m tolerated at court because the chance of an illegitimate pregnancy between us is basically nothing. That might change if he starts a diplomatic incident between Ferelden and the Wardens on my account. <i>I</i> made the call, Yana,” Lucija snapped. Marjana huffed, but did not continue to argue. It seemed Lucija's relationship with the King of Ferelden was a sore point between the cousins.</p><p>“So every Grey Warden thinks they’re going to die. No wonder they’re willing to try something desperate,” Eira said. “Blackwall, what about you?”</p><p>“I’m not afraid of the Calling. Anything Corypheus does only strengthens my resolve.”</p><p>“Funny, you sound like Ali when he talks about it,” Lucija looked down, lips pressed together in a frown. She sighed, then walked to a table littered with a few books, papers, and a map. “The Wardens are gathering in the Western Approach, last I heard, at an old Tevinter ritual tower. I was planning to investigate. I could use some help.” She looked up at Eira, brows raised in question.</p><p>“The Inquisition will help you.”</p><p>_____________________________</p><p> </p><p>The camp was cold, it was always so cold in Ferelden, but the rain had stopped earlier in the day. They had left behind the town, its rifts closed, its demons purged, its mayor fled. Eira sat at the fire, inking a report to her advisors. The others were asleep, except Marjana, who was on watch duty. She finished, let the ink dry, and sealed it in gold wax. She pulled out the letter she had last received from Cullen. He had ignored her questions about how he was feeling, and had clearly avoided talking about Hawke at all. He stuck to questions about Eira’s adventures as she had cleared out the countryside looking for Lucija’s hideout. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her mouth when he reacted to her description of seeing the dragon in the ruins. </p><p><i>Maker, Eira, it’s hard enough that you’re away. Now I’ve got to worry about you being killed by a dragon. Have mercy on me.</i> </p><p>He was worried about her. She felt the flutter in her chest, all-too familiar when she thought about the Commander. </p><p>“What’s got you smirking?” Marjana said, plopping down next to her.</p><p>“Nothing!” Eira said quickly, folding the letter and trying to stuff it into her pocket. “Shouldn’t you be on watch?”</p><p>“I came to wake up lazybones Tethras, actually. Gimme that!” She lunged forward and grabbed the paper, tugging it from Eira’s pocket. She laughed, despite Eira’s protests, and began reading aloud.</p><p>“<i> 'My Dear Eira, I hope this letter finds you well</i>’, blah blah blah. This is a boring letter to be all giddy over.” Marjana skimmed through, clearly disappointed in the lack of salacious content. “<i> 'Yours, Cullen’</i>. As in Rutherford? You’re doe-eyed at a letter from Knight-Captain Rutherford? Ugh, I thought I saw the last of <i>that</i> when Luci met Alistair.”</p><p>“What is that supposed to mean?” Eira said, snatching the letter back, face reddening.</p><p>“Back at the circle, Luci had <i>such</i> a thing for the Templar. Some kind of victim complex, if you ask me, dreaming about the man whose job is to kill you at any moment. Is that some kind of mage kink?”</p><p>“What? I… I don’t… he isn’t a Templar, and he wouldn’t kill me! <i>Fenedhis</i>”</p><p>“Ha, yeah right. At least when Lucija knew him he was relatively tame. He turned rabid when he got to Kirkwall, you know. I’m surprised you can stand to be in the same room as him, with all the shit he says.”</p><p>“He’s never said anything like… like… about me being a mage, like that!”</p><p>“Varric didn’t tell you what he used to be like in Kirkwall? Shit friend he’s been.” Marjana shook her head, eyeing Varric’s tent with a snarl.</p><p>“Look, I don’t know why you and Cullen hate each other, but it has nothing to do with me.”</p><p>“I hate him because he killed my lover for being an apostate. And it has everything to do with you. He used to say horrible shit, Lavellan. How every mage was an abomination and a blood mage. He acted like they were all murderers. He said they weren’t even people. He’s absolutely mad. I’m surprised he’s managed this long without an unhinged rant. Turns out here’s more of a bootlicker than a mage hater, apparently.” Marjana shrugged, then got up. “Anyway, I’m gonna wake up Varric for watch. Keep yourself safe, Inquisitor.” </p><p>Eira stared into the dying campfire. Her stomach twisted into a cold knot. Was Hawke lying? Why would she? Sure, she hated him, but she honestly didn’t seem clever enough to come up with such specific grievances if they weren't real. But her lover... Eira didn't know much about whoever that was. Surely Cullen wouldn't have killed someone for being an apostate. Right? But really, was it so hard to believe that a Templar would believe hateful things about mages? The stories she had heard about the circle, particularly at Kirkwall... they were chilling. Somehow it had never occurred to her to connect her Commander with the tales. But he must have been involved. Eira hugged her arms around herself. Of course, he was kind to her. She was in charge. She felt as if she had come ungrounded, her head was whirling. Her mouth dry. He had shown her who he really was, back before she was Inquisitor. He had screamed at her, berated her. That was the real Cullen Rutherford. She had let herself fall for a pair of pretty eyes, a nice smile. Let herself believe the sweet things that gorgeous voice said. She had been such a fool. She felt the tears welling in her eyes. Not grief, but white-hot anger. At him, for deceiving her into thinking he was anything but a bigoted Templar. And at herself, for falling for it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just love Aggressive!Hawke so much</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Chapter 35</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Amells return to Skyhold, and the Inquisition plans its next steps</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: withdrawal, relapse, drug use</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen balled his hands into fists, fighting back the nausea as he walked toward the war room. He had already vomited this morning, and had no particular desire to repeat the experience. He pushed down the familiar loathing that had haunted him since that day Hawke had returned. The memories, the panic. It had been a moment of weakness. And Eira had tried, <i>Maker</i> she had tried. But nothing could soothe his memories like lyrium. And so he had gone to his quarters and drank that sweet nectar. And now he was paying for his lapse in willpower. The symptoms were always worst in the few weeks after he broke down and dosed. It was what he deserved.</p><p>Cullen was early to their meeting but Eira was there, talking with Lucija and Marjana. He hadn’t seen Lucija in years. She looked older, but then she had been barely 20 when they had last known each other. She was sadder, too, more serious. She had been absolutely bubbly when she was at the circle. She had made even Greagoir smile. He had fallen for her quickly. A boy of 17, freshly appointed from his Chantry training. And there she had been, 16, a prodigy. She was beautiful, sweet, talented, perfectly created to steal his heart. And how she had enjoyed teasing him over the years. He thought it was some joke, at first, until the first time she had pulled him into a private alcove and kissed him. He had prayed, later that night, but nothing happened. No hellfire, no lightning strikes, no wrath of Knight-Commander Greagoir. And of course, they couldn’t ever have a relationship. But occasionally, she would ask his help getting something from a high shelf in storage and steal him to the catacombs and kiss him. He would leave a flower by her bedside, in the room she shared with the other apprentices. Daffodils were her favorite. They had continued their dance until she left to become a Warden. Her rushed goodbye to him, the hurried kiss they shared in secret before she left, was one of the last times Cullen was truly at peace.</p><p>Lucija’s face lit up when she saw him. She broke from her conversation and rushed to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his woolen shirt. He leaned in to her. It was such a familiar feeling, holding Lucija, yet so far away.</p><p>“Cullen! Oh, Maker, it’s been so long.” She pulled back and examined him, eyes twinkling. “Look at you! Not a boy anymore, hmm?” She tugged at the surcote hanging from his shoulders, then reached up to cup his cheek. “The scar suits you. Very handsome.” He stood, torn between the sweet memory of her touch and the dark torture of the demon who had impersonated her so well. He stepped back, relieved when her hands were no longer on his skin. </p><p>“It’s good to see you, Luci. You look well. Alistair’s doing right by you, then?”</p><p>“Ha! Ali’s been more than I could ever hope for. But I certainly don’t look well after hiding out in a cave, you oaf.”</p><p>“I’d be worse than an oaf if I told the King’s lover she looked haggard.” Lucija pouted and Cullen laughed. Leliana and Josephine came in then, and Lucija squealed so loudly that Eira jumped. She ran to Leliana and leapt into her arms, enveloping her in a fierce embrace. Josephine waited, standing with Eira. Cullen saw the women exchange a look of bemusement. Then Eira looked at him. Cullen had expected her to smile, to cock her head to the side that cute way she did while she pulled at the ends of her braided hair. But she was glaring at him. He could practically feel the hatred radiating from her. He blinked, shocked, but her expression didn’t change. She turned to the others, settling in for their meeting, and the smile returned to her face. A smile she usually gave to him.</p><p>What had gone wrong?</p><p>Bewildered, he noticed Marjana watching them, a cruel smirk on her face. Fuck. Marjana Hawke was what had gone wrong. As always. </p><p>Everyone settled in, with the Inquisition’s advisors at one side of the table, facing the Inquisitor, the Champion, and the Hero on the other side. Eira stepped forward.</p><p>“Lucija told us about the situation with the Wardens. I think, first, Hawke should explain her encounter with Corypheus last year.” Eira looked to Marjana, who sauntered forward, still smirking. Cullen felt his jaw ache from grinding his teeth. Just another ache to add to the feeling that his body was falling apart. </p><p>“Stop me if I lose anyone. So last year, some Carta thugs kidnapped Beth. From Vigil’s Fucking Keep. That place has gone to shit since Howe replaced you, Luci. Anyway, I get a letter from Howe saying Beth’s gone missing, and Varric gets the scoop because there’s nothing that dwarf doesn’t know. We fight a bunch of Carta pricks and get Beth back, and there’s some kind of Grey Warden tower that needs Hawke blood to get it open, or the seals or whatever. Apparently they were trying to bust something out, and they figured Beth was the easy one to grab. Turns out, the Wardens threatened our dad to make him do some blood magic ritual to seal away all these demons. But we went in and undid it. Which was fine, because we fucking killed the thing inside. It called itself Corypheus. He was ranting about being some Vint magister, and spewing crap about the golden city. We killed him, and that was it.”</p><p>Cullen listened as Marjana told her tale, trying to hide his annoyance every time she lost the thread or doubled back on something. She certainly lacked the storytelling skills of her dwarven friend. Maker, she was frustrating to listen to. Eira looked to Leliana on his left and Josephine on his right, ensuring they were following along. She avoided looking at him at all. </p><p>“That seems to match what Corypheus claimed to the Inquisitor in Haven,” Leliana said. Josephine scribbled on her board faster than Cullen thought possible.</p><p>“Why was he in a Grey Warden prison?” Cullen said.</p><p>“I don’t know why it was a Warden prison. Luci and Beth have theories. Maybe you’ll like it better coming from her, Rutherford?” Marjana jerked her head to her right, toward Lucija.</p><p>“Yana, please,” Lucija snapped.</p><p>“And why would the Wardens force your father to perform a blood magic ritual? They have mages of their own, though I suspect not ones who perform such dark arts,” Cullen asked, earning himself a withering glare from Eira. He could feel the sweat beading on his brow, as if the screaming pain in his head were leaking outward. Bile rose in his throat, but he pushed it down.</p><p>“You just said so. Why do it themselves when they can force an apostate to do their dirty work?”</p><p>“The Grey Wardens are a respected group, it just seems--”</p><p>“Stop!” Eira snapped at him. “We aren’t putting mages on trial today, Commander.” Cullen was stunned into silence. He was prepared to argue with Marjana, but seeing Eira looking at him so icily, that was more than he could handle.</p><p>“This is valuable information, but how does it relate to the Grey Wardens?” Leliana asked, cutting the tension in the room. Lucija stepped up to answer, then. She looked tired as she shot a glare at her cousin.</p><p>“Yana’s sister is a Warden. Bethany told me that being in that tower with Corypheus was agonizing. She said the Calling was loud around him. He may have survived Marjana’s killing blow the way any archdemon does, by transferring his essence into the nearest tainted being.”</p><p>“You think <i>he’s</i> an archdemon? Not his dragon?” Eira asked.</p><p>“I don’t know what he is. He’s not like what I know about archdemons, but it certainly seems he has some similar power. The Wardens all started hearing the Calling just before the Breach opened in the sky. Warden-Commander Clarel has been coming up with some pretty drastic plans for the Orlesian Wardens.”</p><p>“The Ferelden Wardens aren’t panicking?”</p><p>“We’re a lot younger, most of us joined after the Blight. The Calling’s too soon for pretty much all of us. Some of us have been reasonable enough to keep that in mind. Still, though, many have left for Orlais, want to join Clarel’s plans. It’s hard to call them deserters when they’re not technically leaving the order. Howe’s just about losing his mind over it.”</p><p>“Howe’s always angry about something, from what you’ve told me,” Leliana laughed.</p><p>“Nice that it’s not me this time though,” Lucija said. “But still. He’s going to Weisshaupt to try to address the issue directly. I think, given what Bethany’s told me, Corypheus is putting out this Calling to the Wardens. I have no idea why though. All I know is that Warden-Commander Clarel is trying to gather everyone she can for some mad push into the Deep Roads, trying to put an end to this before it gets serious. She’s… I’ve heard rumors that they’re… that they’re using blood magic to summon and bind demons to fight alongside them. Clarel seems to think that will give them an advantage, and that they’ll be able to survive the Deep Roads.” Lucija shook her head, looking dejected. “There’s so much we don’t know. I was never close with Clarel, but… I didn’t think she was this mad. They must be truly desperate.”</p><p>Silence hung in the air following Lucija’s explanation. Cullen breathed carefully, in through his nose for a count of five, out through pursed lips for five more. <i>Keep the nausea down. Grip the edge of the table, keep the hands from shaking. Wipe the damned running nose and the sweat from the lip.</i> Finally, Lucija began again.</p><p>“The most recently I heard from Beth and Howe, the Wardens are all gathering out in the Western Approach to perform some ritual. Inquisitor Lavellan has said she’ll travel there with me.” All eyes snapped to Eira.</p><p>“I’ll need transport for myself and Lucija. And anyone else who wants to come. We should leave soon, I think. Leliana, how quickly can a scouting party be prepared?” Eira said. </p><p>“As soon as necessary. Harding has returned recently, and is ready to leave at my word.”</p><p>“Inquisitor, you’ll need leave to travel through the sovereign lands in Orlais. I should have the agreements made in a week from now,” Josephine said, scribbling furiously as ever. </p><p>“The Approach is dangerous, and far removed from our location here. I’d like to send a contingent of soldiers to join your team, Inquisitor,” Cullen added. Eira didn’t look at him as she agreed. </p><p>“Good. Leliana, Josephine, Commander, We’ll meet tomorrow to finalize our plans.” Eira sighed. She seemed to deflate, letting herself shrug off the Inquisitor’s mantle. She smiled at Josephine, who capped her inkpot and walked her out. The others left, and Cullen followed. As he did, he felt anger bubbling up inside him. He had something good here. He was trying, damnit. And just weeks after Marjana Hawke showed up, it was all crumbling through his fingers. He stormed out after her. She was laughing with her cousin nas they walked through Josephine's office toward the main hall. </p><p>“Hawke!” he called, stopping her in her tracks. Marjana waved her Lucija on and turned to face him. Eira, sitting at Josephine’s desk, jumped and spilled her tea when he shouted, and was glaring as he strode by them and out into the main hall. Marjana stood waiting, glaring back at him fiercely. Cullen grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the entrance to the cellars. He shoved her through the door as she laughed coldly, then slammed it behind him. Down the stairs and to the hallway leading to the prisons. Fitting, really.</p><p>“You can’t exactly kill me down here and get away with it, Knight-Captain,” Marjana spat.</p><p>“What did you say to her?” he snarled back. His face was twisted with anger, hands gripping her arms.</p><p>“What the fuck do you mean?”</p><p>“Eira. What did you say to her?”</p><p>“Nothing she didn’t deserve to know. I’m surprised you managed to keep your hard-on for hating mages in your pants this long.” Marjana mimed pumping her imaginary cock at her pelvis. </p><p>“You had no right--”</p><p>“Right? She had a right to know that her Commander thinks she’s less than a person!” Marjana’s cold laugh had turned to a snarl. “You think you’re so high and mighty. You’re a power-hungry prick who gets off on pushing people around. Now fuck off, before I get angry.” She pushed him away and walked back toward the staircase. Cullen felt the blood rushing in his ears, a wave of dizziness. His head was spinning. He thrust his palms onto the wall for support, leaning over as his breath quickened. He hated Marjana. He hated Kirkwall. He hated himself. He slammed his fist against the wall and screamed as he felt a bone snap. His yell echoed into the empty hall. He had said horrible things, thought horrible things, <i>done</i> horrible things. It was too much. He leaned forward and retched onto the stone floor. Maker, was there any way he could escape his past?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Chapter 36</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tensions come to a breaking point</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: drugs, withdrawal, mentions of overdosing</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira had spent the next few days avoiding Cullen fastidiously. He had tried to talk to her the first day, when she got back, but she had given him the meanest glare she could muster and he hadn’t tried since. It was so hard to think. Every time she looked at him she was so full of anger. He had lied to her. Acted like her friend. She had actually felt sorry for him, tried anything to make him smile. She hated the part of her that still wanted that, the part that broke a little bit when he looked at her with those sad eyes. It was fucking pathetic. He was a good actor, she had to admit. Except for that afternoon after Therinfal, he had seemed respectful, kind even. She had honestly believed that he respected her as a leader and… that he was interested in her. She had cried in Josephine’s office, after their war council. She didn’t know if it hurt more to think about the things he had said or to see him looking so pained. Mythal have mercy on her. </p>
<p>Josie had been surprised by what Marjana had said, but Leliana less so. She spoke in half-riddles, as Leliana always did, only hinting at the things she knew. It was more maddening now than ever. She seemed to believe that Cullen was a better man than she had known before, but refused to explain more. And so Eira was left frustrated as ever. It hung over her, a personal stormcloud amidst the growing unease of Lucija’s news to the Inquisition. If nothing else, she only had to last a few more days until she could leave for the Western Approach. </p>
<p>Eira left her quarters, determined to meet with Blackwall to repeat their circular conversation about the Wardens. He had been growing irritated with her, his answers becoming more and more curt each time. She knew it was pointless. He didn’t have any answers yesterday, and he wouldn’t today. And she couldn’t even drag Lucija into this one, as she was holed up with Leliana preparing missives. Blackwall would be stoic to a fault and Eira would snap at him, surely. She knew it was a conversation bound for failure. But she was drawn there, like a moth to a flame, needing some release for the tension gnawing like an itch between her shoulder blades. She stalked down the main hall. For a moment, she considered opening the door leading to the library. She could go to Solas. Yell at him, for what he had done. Scream about his cold anger, his complete lack of mercy. She could cry, maybe, plead with him for answers of why he hated her people so. Lock her lips around his and dig her fingers into his skin and try to find her answers that way. Plumb the depths of him and take the feeling she needed.</p>
<p>No. She was not desperate enough to hurt herself that way, not yet. Fighting with Blackwall would suffice.</p>
<p>The frigid air bit against the tips of her ears as she walked down the stairs. The cold shiver that ran through her, though, had nothing to do with the temperature. Cullen’s voice rang out across the yard, instructing the recruits in their training. His orders barked, patience thin. Good, she hoped he was angry. Hurting. He deserved as much. She held her head high and straight as she passed the training grounds. She would not look at him. She would <i>not</i>. She strode forward, eyes trained on the stables.</p>
<p>“Inquisitor!”</p>
<p><i>Fenedhis</i>.</p>
<p>Eira halted, but did not turn to look at Cullen as he called her.</p>
<p>“What, Commander?”</p>
<p>“Inquisitor, if you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you.”</p>
<p>“I don’t.”</p>
<p>“Eira, please,” his voice grew softer. He reached out to grab her arm, hand firm. She felt her blood boil. She jerked her arm away and wheeled around to face him. </p>
<p>“What could we possibly have to talk about?” she snarled.</p>
<p>“I know Hawke told you--”</p>
<p>“The truth? That you killed a mage?” Eira yelled, ignoring the stunned stares of the trainees around them. Cullen’s face grew dark.</p>
<p>“That’s a lie,” Cullen spat. “Marjana is a fucking liar.”</p>
<p>“You’re the liar.” Eira pushed him as hard as she could, right leather glove and bare left palm smacking against the armor he so rarely wore around her. He merely took a step back to absorb the impact, looking infuriatingly unperturbed.</p>
<p>“I’m not fighting you,” he said. Eira turned to the nearby recruits and ripped a wooden staff from a shocked man’s hand. She wheeled around and swung at Cullen wildly, fury pouring from her. It hit his raised shield with a metallic thud that rang out over the unusually-quiet training field. Eira settled into her fighting stance and swung forward again with the staff, but Cullen deflected the impact easily with his bracer. She yelled as she threw her body forward. They were both in motion, then. Eira thrust and swung and swiped, and Cullen dodged and blocked. His face was hard set, while she was nearly crying with rage. She felt her emotions grow more and more out-of-control, fueled by the ineffectiveness of her attacks and the fact that he wasn’t even attacking her back. She thrust out again. Thud. He pushed his shield between the staff and his chest. Swiped at his legs, he stepped aside. Fucking arrogant. He couldn’t even bother to look angry. Elgar’nan, give her strength. She smacked her staff across his face. He froze. His bruised lip burst, and his mouth began filling with blood. His face, finally, curled into an angry snarl. He turned and spat red.</p>
<p>“Fine. You want to fight? Let’s fight.” He grabbed a wooden training sword from a soldier to his side, who squeaked in fear. He turned to her, and began. It wasn’t like the times she had sparred with him. He had gone slowly then, waited for her to recover and rebalance. Now he moved with deadly speed. Eira stepped back as he pushed, faster, stronger. He thrust on again and again, face twisted in anger. Eira stepped back, it was all she could do to defend herself from his blows. He was huge, looming in his armor. He fought fiercely, and Eira felt her anger mix with panic as she brought her staff up to block his sword again and again. She backed up further, and hit against the stone castle wall. A flare of panic welled in her as he bore down on her, eyes burning. She acted on instinct, then. Even without a real staff to focus her energy, it was easy to reach to her mana and pull the strings around her. She twisted the air, twisted reality, until she could propel herself forward through the nothingness before her. She felt her body pass through his as she stepped through the fade she had created, the idea of her tugging on the idea of him, chilling his body as she tore through. A split second later she reappeared fully, ten yards behind him. She wheeled around to face him, knowing there were only seconds before he turned to find her and continue his assault.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>Eira blinked, and felt the fury leaking from her. Cullen had fallen to the ground. His knees and hands in the muddy slush as he retched. She wavered, her body weak with her anger fading. The dregs of it sat in her stomach, a twisting hot acid. He wiped his mouth with the back of a shaking hand, and stayed kneeling in the mud. The blood from his lip was smeared across his face.</p>
<p>“No magic. You agreed.” His voice was barely-contained fury. Eira felt the churn of bitterness in her stomach, pulled from her pity for him by the reminder of his bias.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t your precious Templar lyrium stop it from working?” </p>
<p>“It would, if I were still taking it!” he yelled. There was a moment of blinding silence, then the whispers began. The recruits turned to one another in a barely-concealed panic. Cullen rose to his feet and cast aside the wooden sword and his shield. He walked away, without turning to look at Eira. Disorder swirled around him as soldiers gaped at him, talking furiously to one another. He didn’t even seem to notice.</p>
<p>“Cullen,” Eira called after him. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. But it didn’t matter, because he didn’t stop. She watched as he stomped up the rampart stairs and to his office.</p>
<p>“Everyone! To the barracks, now!” Rylen shouted, and began herding the soldiers away. They began to move, their hushed voices a gentle roar of sound around Eira.</p>
<p>Cullen had stopped taking lyrium? But they had told Eira that it was addictive. That those who stopped went mad, got sick… but he had been sick. The sweating, the twitching, the bruising under his tired eyes, it must have been from this. They had told her that former Templars who were cut off… they usually killed themselves. Craving drove them mad, or they overdosed on black-market dust, or they ended up desperate beggars. Cullen… how long had he been without? He had said the Inquisition had a supply, so why wasn’t he taking any? In that moment, all she could feel was fear. Fear that her friend was hurting. Fear that he might wake up one day and press a philter to his lips and drink so deeply he would never wake. The whispers of her fears continued even as the voices of the soldiers faded into the distance. </p>
<p>Feeling nothing and absolutely everything, Eira climbed the stairs to Cullen’s office.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Unrelatedly, I've been doodling Eira!<br/><a>
https://www.deviantart.com/thelittlestchocobo/art/Inquisitor-Lavellan-Emoji-Challenge-860255731</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Chapter 37</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cullen tells Eira about his past</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: withdrawal, drugs, PTSD, mentions of past torture/abuse (physical, psychological, sexual). *A very brief summary will be provided at the end of the chapter, for those who don't want to read.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira pulled open the door and immediately jumped out of the way as a box hurtled toward her. Cullen’s voice roared through the small room. The box smashed against the wall, falling open to reveal faintly glowing blue stone. Eira yelped as she dodged the projectile.</p>
<p>“Maker! Eira! I didn’t see… forgive me…” Cullen said. He sank back down into the chair behind his desk. Cullen rested his elbows on the desk and wrapped his hands up over his bowed head. Eira noticed one hand was bare, lacking the usual gloves he wore, and wrapped in a bandage, with a bulge that looked like a splint. She had never noticed until now the scars that wound around his wrist. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Pity and fear mixed in with her anger, churning inside her. She stepped carefully over the ruined lyrium kit, its pieces scattered over the floor, and stood across his desk from where he sat. Cullen mumbled to himself through his tears. It sounded religious, probably some part of the Chant of Light. Eira leaned forward toward the desk.</p>
<p>“Cullen...” she began, but stopped. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. </p>
<p>
  <i>Are you okay? <br/>When did you stop taking lyrium? <br/>Why? <br/>Do you still believe the things you said in Kirkwall? <br/>Are you in pain? <br/>Did you kill Hawke’s mage lover? <br/>Would you ever hurt me? <br/>Are you hurting?</i>
</p>
<p>“I should have told you sooner, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, trying to keep his voice steady. His eyes fixed on his desk, not daring to look up at her. “I asked Cassandra to watch me, to make sure I was performing my duties. I never meant for this to interfere.” Eira stared at the top of his head, gold curls pulled free as he pulled his fingers through his hair. </p>
<p>“I don’t know where to start… Cullen… how long have you been…?”</p>
<p>“Since I left Kirkwall.”</p>
<p>“This whole time?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Inquisitor.” Cullen sounded miserable, but the shaking in his voice had subsided. He ran his hands down his tear-streaked face, wiping the liquid away. He looked up at Eira then. His face was blotched red, eyes puffy. His expression was carefully blank. Eira shouldn’t have been surprised she had been demoted to “Inquisitor,” and she certainly shouldn’t have been hurt. But she was. It seemed impossible that 10 minutes before she had been so angry she wanted to hurt him. And that part of her still did. But somehow, furious as she was, she had been through too much with him to be pushed away. But maybe he was the sort of man who cut ties so readily.</p>
<p>“I command your army, Inquisitor. If you deem it necessary, I… will abandon this.” Eira's brow shot up in surprise. That's what he was worried about? His work?</p>
<p>“You… your work so far has been excellent, Commander. It hasn’t impacted that.”</p>
<p>“Of course it has! I’ve wasted time being sick, been driven to distraction from cravings, and just one touch of magic is enough to ruin me. The Inquisition deserves more from its Commander. Cassandra has refused to find a replacement for me. Will you, Inquisitor?” His lip curled in anger, though Eira suspected it was directed in toward himself. He met her eyes, searching for an answer.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have used my magic against you, I’m sorry, Commander.”</p>
<p>“Don’t change the subject.” His voice had turned bitter.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t, I-- <i>ir abelas</i>.” Eira sighed. “If Cassandra doesn’t want to replace you, I won’t.”</p>
<p>“That is not a wise decision.”</p>
<p>“You agreed not to argue with my decisions, remember?” Eira snapped. Would severity snap him out of his circular argument?</p>
<p>“I will not give the Inquisition less than I gave the Chantry. I should be taking it…” Cullen said, more to himself than her. He buried his face in his hands again. It was as if he was parroting a conversation he’d had in his own head so many times before. He sounded so broken, so empty. He sat there, breathing very deliberately as if he was trying not to fall apart. Eira fiddled with the ends of her hair as she watched him.</p>
<p>“Why did you stop?” Eira asked, voice softer. She needed to understand. There was so much about him that she didn’t know. Maybe she should hate him for it, but she couldn’t hold on to her anger. And if she wasn’t going to be able to hate him, she at least needed to know the man. Maybe something he said would be so awful it would steel her resolve and she could be rid of him.</p>
<p>“I joined the Templars young. It was everything I was. After everything that happened in Kinloch… it broke me. Kirkwall made it all worse. The lyrium was the only way to keep myself together. The Knight-Commander was mad. Between her paranoia and the extra doses of lyrium I was sneaking… I am not proud of the person I became. <i>Maker</i>, I don’t want to be part of that life anymore.” </p>
<p>“The lyrium… is that why you killed Hawke’s lover?” Cullen let out an audible sob at her words. “Please, I just want to understand.” Eira wasn’t sure what lyrium did to one’s mind, not really. The red lyrium was clearly a twisting beast, digging in and tearing minds apart. She had never thought to ask Cullen before what lyrium was like. Perhaps she should have. Especially given her decisions regarding the Templar Order, she should have learned more about the people she had forced to serve her. In all the tales of warning the Dalish told of the Templars, there had never been any suggestion that they might suffer too.</p>
<p>“I didn’t kill Anders. I know Hawke blames me, and she’s not wrong to. The Kirkwall circle was brutal beyond reason. And I did that. Meredith was severe with her charges, and I did everything she said without question. She was all too happy to give me power. The mages… I didn’t see people. All I could see were the demons from Kinloch. Anders bombed the Chantry because he saw no other way to reach the Templars. Marjana’s blade killed him, in the end, but I drove him to do what he did.” Cullen's voice dripped with cold, bitter anger.</p>
<p>Eira’s head swam. Marjana Hawke’s lover had been <i>Anders</i>? Even Eira had known the man’s name. What he did had forced her clan on the run, fearing retaliation from not only the Templars, but the militias of the Free Marches. She had heard stories of the ruin he had left, the deaths. She had assumed that the Templars had killed him. But it was Hawke. It was true, Marjana had lied about Cullen. </p>
<p>And what was she to make of Cullen’s grief? Was it remorse, or just anger that things hadn’t worked the way he wanted? He had, at least, admitted that he had done wrong. But he was in no position for her to question him about his motivations now, not in this state. Her eyes flitted from his glistening brow to his shaking shoulders, his trembling lips, his pupils blown dark and wide. Eira hesitated for a moment, but her hungry curiosity won over her desire to coddle him. She had some idea, now, of what had happened in Kirkwall. But she knew nothing of the other place he had mentioned. </p>
<p>“What is Kinloch?” Eira asked. Cullen looked at Eira, shoulders crumpled forward. His hands were clasped together on his desk, as if he were in prayer. Her resolve failed. She wanted to keep her distance, to be the Inquisitor, cold and impartial, just as he had assigned to her. But the pain in those brown eyes pulled her to him. She walked around the desk and leaned her back against it, and placed her hand over his. She could feel his fingers trembling under hers. He kept his eyes forward, staring at the blank wall before him.</p>
<p>“Kinloch was my first assignment as a Templar, the circle where Lucija grew up. During the Blight, the circle… it...” Cullen’s voice was flat and steady as he broke off, unsure of how to proceed. He unlaced his clasped hands and turned one over, pressing his bandaged palm against hers. She wrapped her fingers around his. He took a sharp breath in, then continued.</p>
<p>“One of the Senior Enchanters, he… I don’t really know. He had some kind of fight with the others, and it turned violent. He and his supporters ended up using blood magic to summon demons. They got out of control so fast. The Knight-Commander sealed the tower, so nothing could get out. I… was trapped inside with five others.” Eira shivered as a frigid wind swirled through the tower. Cullen seemed not to notice, his face damp with sweat and his gaze unfocused.</p>
<p>“I was there for just over a week. The first few days were… I was young, less interesting I suppose. They left me chained, little water, no food. Or lyrium. They wanted me to beg, the blood mages. Thought it was ironic that the lyrium we used to control them… being without it feels like being ripped apart inside, at least at first. The demons, though, they became restless after being summoned and then trapped in the tower. They weren’t content to watch us beg and break in withdrawal. They started the torture with the most senior Templars, but they made us all watch. They gutted one man and left him to die slowly, all his entrails on the floor… </p>
<p>
  <i>Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm...</i>
</p>
<p>It took them three days before they killed the other four or turned them into monsters. I was the only one left.” Silent tears streamed down Cullen’s face as his voice broke. Eira tightened her grip around his hand. He pulled their hands to his face, murmuring a verse from the Chant against her fingers. His lips were soft as they brushed against her skin, and wet with tears. Eira didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all. Cullen’s next words were nearly whispered, lips still brushing gently against Eira’s hand as he spoke.</p>
<p>“They didn’t want me to die as quickly as the others, so they only hurt me superficially. They toyed with me instead. They wouldn’t let me sleep. By the third day, it was hard to tell what was a hallucination and what was a trick of the demons. They would turn into people I knew. Make me watch my family die over and over. Try to tempt me to do horrible things to them in exchange for a drop of lyrium. They would turn into Luci and… and touch me… like I was being punished for all the impure fantasies I had about her. Oh, Maker. I begged them to kill me, eventually. I would have died there if Lucija hadn’t come back with her friends and killed the demons in the tower.” </p>
<p>Cullen’s voice was hollow at the end. He sighed deeply, and bowed his head. Eira’s knuckles rested against his forehead. Waves of pity, revulsion, and sadness flooded through her. There was a sick fascination, hearing about the things he had experienced. His pain, his past, the things he kept hidden away from the world, they were hers. She had seen him with the others, so imperious, brusque, so coldly polite. Friendly enough with her other advisors. But this was raw. Who else had ever seen Cullen Rutherford crumble?</p>
<p>His breathing slowed, and his grip on Eira’s hand loosened. She wiped her thumb under his eye and along his cheekbone, cupping his face against her palm. He leaned into her hand, closing his eyes. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry Cullen,” Eira whispered. Cullen didn’t answer. He moved his hand up to press against hers, holding her palm on his cheek. Eira had no idea how long they stayed that way, together in silence. Her head swirled with fleeting thoughts. <i>He had done such awful things. He had seen such awful things. Could anyone survive such an ordeal without breaking? What would he have been, if not for Kinloch? If not for Kirkwall? Who was he now, without the lyrium? What man would he become?</i></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Cullen tells Eira he has stopped taking lyrium, and offers to begin again at her command. He admits to addiction and drug abuse at Kirkwall, and regrets his past. Eira learns that Hawke's late lover was the infamous Anders. Cullen tells Eira about the torture he endured at Kinloch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I don't mean to hate on Anders. Truly, he is one of my absolute favorite characters! Unfortunately, everyone discussing him in this fic has good reason to resent him, so...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Chapter 38</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira and her team meet Livius Erimond</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira had thought the cold and damp of Ferelden was bad, but she found herself daydreaming about it as their journey to the Western Approach reached its end. The beginning of their journey, crossing through the Dales, had made her heart ache. The familiar plains, the scent of damp ochre, the grasses that left burrs on her knees just like when she was a girl. It was just as she remembered, except that she was alone. They didn’t cross paths with any of the elves of the Dales, and Eira suspected that was not an accident. She lead the team under her <i>shemlen</i> banners, carried their maps in her pockets. All the landmarks were named wrong. Her breast pocket held a lone letter from her Keeper, Deshanna, close against the beat of her heart. Of course, it hadn’t been addressed to her. It was addressed to the ambassador to the Inquisition. The land here was so familiar to her, but she must not have been so to it. She was a stranger here. She found she was eager for the change as they passed Lake Celestine and the climate grew steadily arid. </p><p>Now, nearly a month after they had left Skyhold, Eira was well tired of the heat, the sand, the company. She sat by the fire, wondering darkly how the desert could be so icy cold once the sun was down. Blackwall whittled away at a branch he had carried from the Dales. It was beginning to take shape, carved into the beginnings of a wooden rose. He slid his knife carefully, smoothing the roughness from the barely-formed petals. When he wasn’t working, his fingertips would trace the lace edging the handkerchief Josephine had given him shyly as they had prepared to leave Skyhold. Cassandra had seen Varric off with an affectionate lecture. Leliana had pulled Lucija into a tight hug, and the two had exchanged small favors. Eira had hoped, for a fleeting moment, that Cullen would bid her goodbye, give her a token of affection, take her hands in his and pray she stay safe. She stood by Marjana instead, the woman biting her fingernails in complete uninterest at the emotional goodbyes. Being near Marjana was painful, like rubbing salt in a wound. But she needed it. She couldn’t decide yet if she should hate Cullen Rutherford, but her sickening crush was preventing her from thinking straight. Marjana was a bitter medicine. Only Solas stood alone. No one seemed eager to bid him good luck. If he minded, he didn’t show it. He never did.</p><p>They had fallen into an uneasy routine together. Eira stayed closest to Blackwall. Lucija tried to connect with her fellow Warden, but he was closed off to her attempts at friendship. The cousins and Varric were closest, with Varric and Marjana nearly inseparable. Eira found herself drifting back to Solas as they wound their way through the Dales. She would remember, sometimes, the softness of his lips on hers, his smooth hands. But then they would discuss Elvhen history, review their disparate histories of the Dales. He would scoff at the Dalish, insisting their truths were not so, and she would retreat back into herself. The biggest surprise had been the times she managed to speak with Lucija alone, when her cousin wasn’t there too. She was fiercely intelligent, but kind hearted beneath it all. Eira hadn’t spent much time speaking with Circle Mages, and Lucija was patient as she explained about Circle life. Eira decided that the biggest benefit of the Circle was the teaching. Lucija knew so much about magic and energy, and she controlled it so well. She had shyly admitted to being considered a prodigy in her youth, but Eira thought it had to be more than just that. Perhaps there was some value in gathering mages together, if only academic. She also decided that she liked Lucija. It had taken time to realize, since she was so often with her abrasive cousin. It seemed just like her to get along so well with everyone, even someone as unlikable as Marjana Hawke.</p><p>_______________________________________</p><p>Morning crested over the dunes, and the group quietly broke camp. They were a day’s walk out from the Inquisition’s scouting camp, where Eira had sent a message to her advisors to let them know they were planning their approach to the ritual tower. The team was tense, none moreso than Lucija. She was usually the gentle light of the group, keeping them upbeat and optimistic. With her mood turned dark and anxious, the others followed suit almost immediately. They trudged through the sand in silence, hot wind whipping by and snatching the small hairs Eira hadn’t secured into her braid well enough. Her thighs ached with the effort of pushing into the soft ground over and over. Marjana swore continually as they continued through the scrublands. Hours in, they crested a hill and saw a stone tower jutting up out of the sandy ground. The tower was built in pale stone, crumbling with age. The architecture was unfamiliar. Eira could see figures atop it. Lucija gasped softly. She and Eira exchanged a silent look, then began to jog toward the tower.</p><p>As they reached the stone structure, Eira felt the stir of magic around her. The Veil was thin, and it began to reach out toward her tentatively. They could hear shouting as they approached the seemingly endless steps leading up to the clearing atop.</p><p>“No, wait!”</p><p>“Warden-Commander Clarel’s orders were clear.”</p><p>“This is wrong!”</p><p>“Remember your oath. In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In death, Sacrifice.” A scream rent the air, and Eira felt a surge of power above. They climbed the steps faster, no longer caring if they were heard. Eira felt her palm surge, green mark reaching out toward the crash of energy atop the tower. As she reached the top, she was overwhelmed with the smell of hot blood baking in the sun, its metallic taste coating the back of her throat. Demons stood on the bright flagstones, aside blue-and-silver clad Wardens. The man at the back of the group, however, was dressed in brilliant cream leathers. His clothing reminded Eira of Dorian’s, as did his honey gold skin. He must be Tevinter. Eira gripped her staff in front of her, ready to attack. Her team stood ready, facing the man across the top of the tower. The air was hazy with energy, green and shimmering. </p><p>“Ah, Inquisitor, what an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service,” the man announced, voice all haughty decorum. He leaned forward and flourished his hands in a theatrical bow. he was Dorian's cruel foil.</p><p>“I don’t know who you are, but you are no Warden,” Lucija said, stepping forward. She was resplendent, in her Warden mail, twin griffons glittering across her breast.</p><p>“But you are. Ah, the one Clarel let slip.” He shook his head with a sigh. “You didn’t bring the King with you? Pity, I would have liked to address this problem completely. Still, you brought the Inquisitor, and for that I thank you.” Lucija scowled and turned away from the man.</p><p>“Wardens! This man is deceiving you. Look at what he has you doing! Blood magic! I was Warden-Commander once, and I never would have seen the day we sacrificed our own like this!” Lucija shouted, appealing to the Wardens watching. They shifted nervously, but none moved.</p><p>“I’m afraid they are obligated to do as I say,” Erimond said to her. “Wardens, hands up.” The wardens atop the tower raised their hands immediately. Fear crept across their faces. “Hands down.” They lowered their hands without question.</p><p>“Corypheus is controlling them,” Marjana said, her voice a low growl. She brandished her longsword in an aggressive guard above her head.</p><p>“It was fortunate for the Wardens that when the Calling came, the Venatori were able to offer a solution.” Erimond leveled a wicked smile at his enemies. “Bind an army of demons and march to the Deep Roads to kill the old gods once and for all.”</p><p>“You’re mad. I won’t let you do this!” Eira yelled, stepping toward him.</p><p>“The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again,” Erimond said. He raised his hand, suffused with red energy. Eira screamed as her palm erupted in a flash of light. Her knees buckled beneath her and she dropped her staff as she clutched her hand to her chest. Her vision swam, all green light. She clenched her jaw together, breath heaving, as she tested control of her body. She could move her fingers. Twist her wrist. Pull herself to stand, ever so slowly. Another wave of pain shot through her, but this time she was ready. She felt a soothing cold snake over her, almost like Solas’s magic, but not as familiar. The tendrils of cool, calm energy would around her and through her, twirling through her body and bolstering her strength. As her vision focused she noticed Lucija beside her, standing still and at attention, but seeming not to see Erimond in front of her as he glared at Eira. She must be healing Eira. Eira focused her own energy into her palm and reached outward. It was like closing a rift, almost. One moment she extended the energy in her hand toward the great maelstrom before her, the next she severed and tore, dissipating it. Erimond yelled as he was flung backward, crashing against the low stone wall behind him. Marjana seemed unable to wait any longer, and ran toward him with her sword high. Erimond stumbled to his feet, yelling “Kill them!” to his pawns. They turned, all focus on Eira and her friends.</p><p>The fight began all at once. Marjana and Blackwall charged, slashing their blades toward the demons before them. A cacophony of energy surged around the team as Solas and Lucija set wards and glyphs around them. Eira risked flaring the energy in her palm again as she tore into the Veil. It was a small rent, but it sucked hungrily. Everyone atop the tower was pulled inward. Lucija, quick to catch on, cemented Marjana’s and Blackwall’s feet to the stones beneath them with a wave of her staff. The demons and enemy Wardens were sucked inward faster and faster, until they were piled atop one another. Eira wasted little time, then, calling forth a whirlwind of fire over them. There were screams as the Wardens felt their flesh burning from their bones. Eira felt the mana inside her run dry. The flames died away quickly. Two rage demons were left in their wake, the rest of their adversaries burned and unmoving. Marjana and Blackwall rushed toward them, released, as Lucija poured energy into them. It was quick work. </p><p>The tower was quiet, then. Eira rushed forward, looking for Erimond. He was nowhere to be found, escaped in the few minutes’ distraction. </p><p>Marjana began searching through the bodies with Varric. Solas was inspecting the tower itself. Eira trudged back to Lucija and Blackwall, frustrated at losing Erimond.</p><p>“How could they do this?” Eira asked. “I just… who would think this was a good idea?”</p><p>“Terrified idiots,” Marjana said, approaching them. Lucija glared back.</p><p>“The Wardens were wrong, Yana, but they’re not idiots,” she snapped. “They had their reasons.”</p><p>“That’s what all the blood mages say, didn’t <i>you</i> tell me that?”</p><p>“Things aren’t that easy, Yana, the world isn’t just just a pithy saying!”</p><p>“Oh sure. But everyone always has some story they tell themselves to justify their bad decisions. It never matters. In the end, it only matters what you do, not why.”</p><p>“Shut up, Marjana! Just shut up!” Lucija yelled, voice cracking with emotion. She squeezed her eyes shut and set her mouth thin. It looked like she was trying not to cry. Marjana bristled. Eira didn’t dare wade into the conversation. The silence hung hot and metallic around them, until Varric broke it.</p><p>“Found a note here, Sparky. Looks like orders from Adamant Fortress. Come on, we’d better get back to camp and send word to Skyhold. They’ll need to hear this.” With that, the team slowly left the carnage behind. The buzzards wasted little time settling in behind them. Tears flowed down Lucija’s face, but she didn’t make a sound.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Chapter 39</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letters from the Western Approach</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Inquisitor,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We’ve received your reports thus far. The news is extremely worrying, and we believe direct and swift action is needed. I am unpleasantly surprised to hear that the Wardens have been involved with the Venatori, as there was previously little indication that they were seeking contacts in Tevinter. I will reach out to a contact of mine in the Imperium, who may have more information for us on the status of the Venatori in relations to the Tevene government. We will need to know how deeply this runs so that we can plan accordingly. Leliana is planning to send scouts ahead to the fortress to gather more information. Skyhold is preparing for war, Eira. Commander Rutherford believes that we should march to the fortress and meet up with you there. I do not disagree. It seems imperative, given what you’ve said, that we stop this ritual from being completed. We will await your order before leaving, but I must ask that you answer quickly. Commander Rutherford will ready the army to march, and I will ensure we have diplomatic passage through Orlais. I may be able to call on allies in the region to bolster our forces.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Please stay in the Approach for now. This is far too dangerous for your team alone. Not that I am accusing you of being rash, Eira. I simply worry about you. Your companions may be a bit more impulsive, but it is imperative that they remain with you. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I look forward to your reply.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ambassador Montilyet</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>P.S. Is Gordon doing alright? He must be quite upset by all of this. I know he is a stoic man, but I would appreciate if you could keep an eye on him. Send him my regards.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Also, Cullen has been quite poorly since you left. He won’t even mention your name at meetings. Please tell me that whatever happened between you two isn’t as bad as the rumors I’ve heard?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>-Josie</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Luci,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’ve taken the liberty of writing to Alistair about the details of your encounter. How surprised was I to find you hadn’t written him since you came to us? I know you’re trying to protect him, Luci, and that’s very sweet of you. But he’s the King of Ferelden, and he’s been threatening to cause the Inquisition trouble in his lands. He has convinced himself that we’re holding you hostage. I don’t think he <span class="u">truly</span> believes that, but he has always been irrational when he’s angry. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>More than that, Luci, you know he deserves better. He’s sick with worry over you. He’s not the silly romantic he used to be, he’s not going to charge off to fight at your side. Give him a chance to care for you, and to prove to you that he can handle knowing this. I've known you both for such a long time, and you're some of my dearest friends. So I take it as my responsibility to tell you when you're being foolish. <span class="u">Write to your husband.</span></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I promise you, the Inquisition is going to stop what is happening at Adamant. You must be so scared (if you were ever scared of anything, that is). I can’t guarantee how this will end. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Please know that in everything, I love you most dearly. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Leliana</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Josephine,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>You have my leave to begin your march. Please tell Cullen to prepare as he sees fit. I am waiting in the Approach until it is time to ride out and meet you at Adamant. Ask Cullen how long it will take for the army to reach the fortress, and I will set out to reach it the same time. I hope he has a plan for this. No, of course he does. I’m just worrying.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I'm not sure what rumors you've heard about Cullen and me. I'm guessing that a public fight, me accusing him of murder, and him telling everyone he's off lyrium doesn't count as better than those rumors. I don't know which one of us messed it up worse. To be honest, I don't want to think about him. It's too much.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I can’t help but feel something horrible is going to happen. All of this is turning out to be so much deeper than I had ever thought. This Breach, the Anchor, how can it all be wrapped up in some darkspawn blood magic Warden Venatori Fade old god magister MESS? It doesn’t feel real, like it’s happening to someone else. I wish it were happening to someone else. I’m so scared, Josie. I know you can’t fix that, I just… it’s nice to be able to say it.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Your friend,<br/>Eira</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Inquisitor Lavellan,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Josephine insisted I write you, as she “refused to pass notes between us like we were children.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Adamant Fortress has stood since the Second Blight, which speaks for its defensibility. However, it has been abandoned for some time. It has likely been little reinforced in recent decades. It is certainly not equipped to defend against modern siege weaponry. We have taken with us the necessary equipment when we left several days ago. I estimate we will arrive in a month’s time. Josephine has entreated an Orlesian lord to send assistance to our army in the form of sappers to manage our equipment. I think we shall have little difficulty breaching the fortress itself. The danger will be whether the Wardens have summoned enough demons to pose a significant threat to our troops once inside. Leliana has secured records of Adamant’s construction, and I’ve identified choke points we can use to control the battle. Rest assured, I will draw plans for different likely scenarios we may encounter. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Do not hesitate to write me if you have additional information of tactical use.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Commander Rutherford</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>Alistair,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I should have written you Ali, I just couldn't think of what to say. You know I'm with the Inquisition. They're trying to address this Calling, and they need my help. The Wardens are involved in everything that's been happening. I know I said I would stay with you after I retired. I know I promised. But you'll still have Anora with you, and she's so strong. And I'm going to come back after this and fall into your arms and I'll <span class="u">never</span> leave again. But for now I am okay. The Inquisitor is a lovely woman, and my cousin is as protective as ever. So please, don’t worry about me. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We’ve uncovered terrible things in the Western Approach. The Wardens are mixed up in some blood magic ritual, they're scared and desperate. It seems so unfair. We survived a Blight together, the two of us against everything. We should’ve had more time than this. I thought I was putting it all behind me when I retired from the Wardens. I shouldn't be halfway across the world from you. I already did so much, you did so much. I really believed that I would be able to research and study this, and find a way to release us from the taint in our blood. Maker, Ali, I thought we had more time. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m so ashamed of what the Wardens have done. Blood magic. The worst part is that I can’t hate them. Maker, I had Jowan killed for being a blood mage when we were young. But this Calling, it’s so… I can see why it made the Wardens desperate. I don’t even know what to feel anymore, honestly. Do you remember when you first told me about the Calling? I was so furious. Not at you, but you were the only Warden there so I didn’t speak to you for days. To think, that my life had fifteen years left in it. I’d always thought I’d be like Irving some day, an old mage in the tower who knew everything. But still, I never imagined how bad it would be. It never stops. It’s just always in the back of my head. I’ve found myself humming along, sometimes. It’s like I’m losing my mind. It’s getting louder. There are times I can’t think straight, or I lose track of what I’m saying or doing and just get lost in the music. I don’t know how you’re managing to run a country right now.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I wish I were with you, Alistair. Nothing calms me like your smile and your horrible jokes. When I get back you’re going to need to cancel court for a whole week, because I’m not going to leave your arms. I miss you so much, Ali. I’m going to end this, for both of us. It seems greedy of me, to complain we’ve only had ten years together, but somehow it hasn’t been enough. I want to look back at this and sigh about how young we were when the Calling came and we thought it was all over. I want to grow old with you and Anora.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Send Anora my love. This can’t be easy for her to have to watch.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I love you, Alistair Theirin, now and forever.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Luci</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i><strike>Cullen</strike> Commander Rutherford,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We are planning our trip to Adamant Fortress now. We’ve been through the Western Approach during the past two weeks. We fought our way through a Venatori stronghold. It was brutal. But the keep itself is in good repair. If it weren’t so miserably hot out here, and if we didn’t already have such a splendid castle, I’d suggest we move the Inquisition’s operations out to it. Perhaps it’s worth keeping a presence there? I don’t know if there’s any strategic value being out here, really. We found an old prison, too. The Venatori used to send people to it. But it’s got an entrance to the Deep Roads under it. We did our best to seal it up. It was surreal in there. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>In any case, we’ve eliminated much of the dangers of the Western Approach. The Venatori have been… I didn’t know I could hate someone so much. I just can’t fathom why they’re doing this all. If Corypheus destroys everything, they’ll die too. Don’t they get that? They’re so determined to bring back their slaver days, I guess. Part of me is glad I killed them. I don’t know what to think about that.<br/>We will meet you on the road leading to Adamant in two weeks’ time.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Inquisitor Lavellan</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <strike>I can’t just leave it</strike>
    <br/>
    <strike>Are you okay?</strike>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cullen, I just want to ask if you’re okay. Josie says you haven’t been well. I didn’t leave things the way I wanted. I should apologize. I never meant for any of this. The things Hawke said… I was so scared. Maybe I still am, I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about all of it, you and the Wardens and Hawke and my clan. I’ve been praying to Ghilan’nain, but she hasn’t had any guidance for me. Please, help me understand. What is it like, taking lyrium? Are you okay now without it? That worries me too.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I understand if you don’t answer. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_______________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>Inquisitor Lavellan,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>If we are being honest, I am not well. I have been under intense scrutiny from the soldiers since my outburst. They’re afraid I might be losing my mind, now that they know I’m not taking lyrium any longer. So I work longer and twice as hard to appear fit. I wish you had come to me with your concerns privately. I do not appreciate my personal business being displayed for everyone’s comment. But it’s more than that, now. We’ve put the troops at ill-ease. They’re scared that I’m unstable, they worry they can’t trust my orders. They fear that you and I are at odds. Some have been whispering together, wondering what will happen if I fall from your favor. Who do they follow if their Commander and the Inquisitor begin issuing conflicting orders? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I am not vain enough to lay the blame solely at your feet. I admit the fault I have had. I should have told you earlier about the lyrium. I should not have let my emotions get the better of me. I should not have become as close to you as I did. But for your part, I will remind you that public confrontations are not appropriate for a leader. I am surprised you would need to be told this. Would you and Keeper Istimaethoriel have put on such a display for your clan? We are not simpletons, just because we are shemlen.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>As for Marjana, she is hardly an unbiased informant. Hawke is not a bad person, but she and I have too much history together. She does not forgive easily, if ever. She killed Anders without a second thought, and she lived with and loved the man for years. I suspect she will never have a kind word for me, and that’s more than I deserve from her. But I cannot carry the burden of every wrong in Kirkwall across my shoulders, even if she needs someone to blame. I deeply regret the man I was, but I am doing all I can to be someone better.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Lyrium-- taking it is euphoria. It makes everything more intense. It makes me feel more intense. It’s good at first, but it can turn to anger so quickly. It makes me feel powerful, invincible. Like I could take on anything and win. It makes me start fights I shouldn’t. Like with you after Therinfal. I wouldn't have spoken to you that way if I were in my right mind. I suppose it’s a good quality in a Templar. Fearless, decisive. Never hesitating to go against a demon or to strike someone down if the Chantry deemed necessary. And if we don't follow what they say, they can take it from us until we fall in line.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I haven’t taken any since that first week Hawke came to the Inquisition. I am trying. Maker give me strength, I will be a better man.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>If you have concerns about me in the future, please speak to me <span class="u">privately</span> about the matter. I have spent the past month clearing up the damage this has done among the troops. Cassandra will ensure I am well enough to perform my duties.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Commander Rutherford</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Chapter 40</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The calm before the storm</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: violent sex</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira heard the army approaching before she saw them, all hoofbeats and armor clanking. She stood in the path, waiting. It was appropriate, she thought, for the Inquisitor to greet her troops as they arrived. The battle ahead would likely be hard-won. They deserved a view of who they were fighting for. The air was hot. She stood in her best armor, shined and polished leathers with silverite accents. Her hair was pulled back, elaborately braided into a crown around her head. She wore her Inquisitor’s circlet too, gold band imperious around her forehead. As the troops approached, the Commander dismounted. He walked up to her, armor blazing in the morning sun. Golden curls framed his face, expression unreadable. Eira stood firm as he approached, not sure what to expect. To be honest, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her at all. But he must be making a show of it, to prove to the troops that the Inquisitor and her Commander weren’t about to cause some schism in the Inquisition. </p>
<p>“Eira,” he said. His voice was dark, as were his honey-brown eyes. He stood before her, nearly half a head taller and twice as broad. He reached forward and cupped her cheek with a bare hand. His thumb traced a path along the vallaslin on her cheekbones, then down to her lips. Her breath hitched as she felt the pad of his thumb press onto her bottom lip, pulling her mouth apart ever so slightly. He gripped her chin and pulled her forward, then. His lips crashed against hers. She gasped, but the sound was swallowed up by his tongue. The stubble along his upper lip scraped against her. She reached forward, bringing her hands to rest along his muscled shoulders. His skin was warm under his thin shirt. He kissed her feverishly as he wrapped his hands around her. She raked her fingers through his blond curls, pressing his face forward to hers, willing him not to stop. His hands gripped her waist, warm and firm over her linen shift. He pulled her body against his. His fingers dug into her hips, clawing at her with need. He pulled his lips from hers, and she gasped softly at the loss. Her breath came in quick bursts, her body electrified at his touch. He leaned in toward her and clutched her body tighter. Cullen nuzzled along her jaw, and she obliged him by tilting her chin upward. He trailed kisses down her neck. Tickling, light things at first. Then he bit, teeth digging in. Eira didn’t attempt to stifle the moan that dripped from her mouth. He was going to bruise her, but she didn’t care. She was his. She wanted him to leave his marks. He sucked and bit at the delicate skin of her neck, then dipped lower, nipping at her collarbones. She leaned backward farther still to give him access to her. He wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her close, and pulled the other up under her knee. She was balanced against him, fully supported with her leg wrapped around his hip. She gasped and let out a breathy moan as she felt his bulge pressing against her. <i>Oh, Sylaise, he was so hard</i>. His mouth travelled lower, trailing burning kissed over the tops of her small breasts. </p>
<p>“Oh, Cullen!” she cried as he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. He growled, low and raw, as she ground her hips against him. He swirled his tongue around her peak, sending shocks of desire through her. His erection throbbed against her, and she felt herself slick and wet in response. </p>
<p>“Eira, I need you,” he gasped.</p>
<p>“Please,” she moaned in response. He grabbed her other leg and hoisted, lifting her from the ground. She clutched against him. His face and chest were flushed red, eyes heavy with desire. He grabbed her rear and lowered her onto his cock. His breath stopped as he parted her folds and sheathed himself deep inside her. The look on his face, oh Creators, it was ecstasy. He began to pump his hips, then, pushing himself into her with every thrust. Her whole body was on fire. The feeling of him inside her, filling her, was better than she had ever imagined. He moved faster, face screwed up in pleasure. </p>
<p>No. pain. </p>
<p>His groans grew louder, sharper. His breath gurgled from him, wet. Eira watched in horror as blood foamed at the corners of his mouth. She opened her mouth in shock and felt liquid drip down her chin. She rubbed her hand against her mouth and found it wasn’t blood but another red liquid, this one glowing seductively. Lyrium. Cullen leaned forward and kissed her hungrily, drinking in the red lyrium that dripped from her lips. She struggled, and tried to pull away from him. He glared at her, brown eyes replaced with fluorescing red. His fingers dug into her hips, his nails cutting into her and pulling blood. Eira pushed her hands against his chest, trying to wrest free. Her palms were sliced open on the jagged red crystals that jutted from his skin. He laughed, his voice twisted and dark. As he did, trickles of lyrium leaked from the corners of his mouth, red and bright. Eira’s vision went red. Red was all she could see. Cullen leaned forward and bit into her neck again, this time his sharpened teeth tore into her flesh. She screamed.</p>
<p>“Cullen!” Eira yelled, opening her eyes and bolting up in her bed. Tendrils of dawn filtered through the canvas, and birds twitted outside. <i>Fenedhis</i>, it was another dream. Not her first nightmare about Cullen in the past few weeks. Nearly all of them involved lyrium, usually red. It was not the first nightmare in which he had kissed her, either. But this one had been even more violent than the others, and much more overtly sexual. She shivered, her body damp with sweat. Her blankets were in disarray. She had probably been thrashing in her sleep. Eira closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She needed to pull herself together. They were expecting the Inquisition forces to arrive today. She owed Cullen professionalism. She needed to greet him with confidence and respect in front of the troops. She needed to put aside the twisting mass of fear and pity and lust inside her and play her part as the Inquisitor. </p>
<p>_______________________________</p>
<p>Eira and her team followed along after the messenger, nearing the Inquisition’s camp. They were met by Cassandra at first. She greeted them warmly, by Cassandra standards anyway. There was a smile, even for Varric, and she wound her arm around Eira’s shoulders in a half-hug. She ushered Eira and Lucija along, leading them to what must be the command tent. Sketches of Adamant Fortress littered the table at the center of the tent, with markers that Eira assumed were the troops. Cullen leaned heavily against the table, propping up his wearily drooping body. Eira wouldn’t have been surprised if he told her he hadn’t slept once since she left. His face was pale, without a spot of color to his cheeks, and the bags under his eyes hung heavy and dark. But his hair was slicked back as usual, and he wore his full set of armor, perfectly polished and gleaming. When Eira and Lucija entered he straightened up at once, as if he hadn’t just been crumpled over the table with exhaustion.</p>
<p>“Lucija, Inquisitor. It’s good you’re here. We’re reviewing our plans now,” Cullen said. His voice was flat. Eira felt her throat constrict. She couldn’t find any words. So she took her place at the table silently. They spent the better part of an hour reviewing Cullen’s plans. He explained the movements of the trebuchets, manned by the sappers Josephine had acquired for them. He ran through contingency plans, for what to do if the Wardens inside were mostly alive, if they had summoned a critical mass of demons, if they were mostly dead, if their mages were fit to fight, if they were still able to be persuaded to see reason, if Corypheus had control of them all. Of course, Eira wouldn’t need to remember any of this. Cullen would, and he would call orders as necessary. It was foolish, really, that he needed her approval for this. She didn’t know anything about what he was saying. Perhaps all of this was foolish, thinking she could lead a <i>shemlen</i> army. But she gave her approval readily, and Cullen nodded to her. The first time he had looked at her, really. He didn’t look angry, like she had thought he would from his letter. Just tired.</p>
<p>And suddenly, it was settled. Cullen would communicate the plan to Rylen, and they would begin moving the troops into place at once. Eira was instructed to find her team and gear up. They would act as a forward strike team. Lucija was to come too, naturally, and Cullen thought it best if Blackwall go as well. He was less keen on the idea of Marjana accompanying them, but Lucija had stood firm on the matter. So it would be the three women, Blackwall, Solas, and Varric. Cassandra would lead a second team with Dorian, Bull, and Cole to guide the forces as they swept the fortress. Eira felt as if her mouth were filled with sand. The anticipation of what was to come had set in at last, after days of surreal waiting. She had known this was coming, but it had been so far off, when discussed in letters. Reviewing it now, talking with her <i>Commander</i> about her <i>military strike</i> into a <i>Warden Fortress</i>. It was like she was hearing a story of someone else’s life. She felt numb, felt her fingers tingling. She had always hated anticipation.</p>
<p>The others left, and she felt her feet carrying her out too. She needed to go find her things, get ready to lead her team into the heart of this mess. But first. She looked at Cullen, walking toward the troops with his head held high. She called out to him. He stopped, turned to her. His face was unreadable.</p>
<p>“Commander Rutherford. Can I… can we… ah…”</p>
<p>“Talk?” His voice was even as he regarded her. She had never felt so small before him.</p>
<p>“I’ll walk with you, I know you’re in a hurry. And… they should see us talking, right?” Eira said, voice soft. She looked forward toward the soldiers as they prepared for battle. Cullen grimaced, but nodded. He began walking again, in long, confident strides. Eira stepped quickly to keep up.</p>
<p>“I wanted to apologize. I… have made things harder for you, and I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cullen said. A forced smile pulled his lips taut. But it stung as if he had slapped Eira. He was perfectly polite, her Commander. Perfectly removed. To anyone watching, they were having a pleasant exchange. But he had put up a wall between them. Eira willed herself not to show her hurt. After all, she had started this fight. And she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to end it. She just wanted the nightmares to stop.</p>
<p>“Right, of course. I understand. I… I’ll leave you now, to go prepare. I just wanted to thank you, Commander, for your service. And to wish you luck in the battle.” Eira said, louder than necessary. She plastered a smile across her face. He needed a show, needed the soldiers to see them as a team. She <i>would</i> do that for him. He stopped, turning to face her. </p>
<p>“Inquisitor, it is an honor to lead your army.” His voice was too loud, but more obviously than Eira’s had been. He wasn’t a great actor, it seemed. They smiled at one another, neither looking at all pleased. And then he changed, all at once. The smile wavered and then was gone. His brows knit together in concern. He stepped toward her, closing the gap between them in an instant. He reached out his gloved hand and rested it on Eira’s arm. She tensed, part of her mind waiting for his skin to burst open in red lyrium sores. </p>
<p>“Listen, Eira… be careful.” His voice was low, hushed. She wanted to lean into his touch. His concern for her. She wanted to hit him, to scream. She wanted to press up on her tiptoes and kiss him softly. She wanted to tell him she hated him for the things he had said, for the things he had done, even if she didn’t fully understand them. She wanted to whisper sweetly to him, tell him she would be okay. And so would he.</p>
<p>“I will. Stay safe, Cullen.” She stood, looking up at him, wavering on the precipice of something she couldn’t predict. Cullen pulled away sharply, then. He turned without another word, and began calling orders to his troops. Eira noticed many looking away suspiciously, as if they had been very attentive all along. She forced a smile to her face as she watched Cullen walk away. It was time to prepare for the battle ahead, now. <i>Anduril, spare us the moment we become your prey</i>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Chapter 41</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Storming Adamant</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>THUD. </p><p>The battering ram crashed against the giant wooden doors. The sun was setting behind the fortress, casting their army into the shadow of the walls. Cullen raised his horn to his lips and blew a command. </p><p>THUD.</p><p>The ladders were being pushed back from the walls faster than they could be raised. There were too many demons atop the walls. Lucija watched, her body like a coiled spring. She wanted to go, to run, to release all the energy in her in a barrage of magic and electricity. But she would wait for the Inquisition’s command. She was here on their behalf, even she saw the Wardens as hers.</p><p>THUD.</p><p>The sappers aimed the trebuchet loads expertly, collapsing the outer walls and sending the defending Wardens tumbling down. Their armor gleamed in the light of the rapidly setting sun. Lucija looked like one of them. She had insisted on that. She had donned her old Warden-Commander armor for the occasion, the scalemail-crusted robes adorned with a golden gryphon across her breast. Marjana was ahead of her with Blackwall. He stood at ease, ready to brandish his shield forward when called to. The Inquisition had scrounged up Warden armor for him as well, since his official order had been lost years ago. It suited him well, she thought. It was a shame she hadn’t gotten to know him better, but he wasn’t the first Warden with a taciturn personality. </p><p>THUD.</p><p>Marjana bobbed impatiently, adjusting her grip on her sword and shifting her weight anxiously. She had drawn her blood-red kaddis across her own face before the battle. Then, in a surprising act of solidarity, had traced the red paint across Eira’s cheekbones, underlining her <i>vallaslin</i>. She didn’t offer Lucija any, and it wasn’t surprising. She had resented the times she was compared to her cousin, usually unfavorably. She wouldn’t want them looking even more alike. The Inquisitor looked visibly nervous, shifting her weight between her feet and darting her eyes around the beginning battle. She hadn’t seen much of war, from what she told Lucija. She reached out and grabbed Eira’s hand, squeezing gently. She gave her a small smile. Eira tried to smile back, but it was a weak, thin thing. Lucija wondered if she had looked that way, back at Ostagar. Had Duncan thought she was frail and scared before sending her and Alistair to the signal tower? </p><p> </p><p>THUD.</p><p>It already smelled like war. Metal and blood and fire. Screams and clashes of metal already filled the air. It was just a matter of when they would be told to go. Lucija closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of smoke. <i>In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice.</i></p><p>“Inquisitor!” Cullen yelled as he ran to Eira’s side. She jumped with a yelp. She hadn’t noticed him come close. The poor woman’s nerves were frayed. “The gates are nearly breached. Our soldiers on the ladders can’t get purchase, there’s too much resistance on the walls. If you can clear out the battlements, the soldiers can cover your advance. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied as long as we can. You find Clarel.”</p><p>“We’ll clear a path, Commander. Don’t take too many risks for me.” Eira placed a hand on his arm, and he tensed visibly.</p><p>“We’ll do what we have to. Make the most of it, Eira.” The two looked at one another for a long moment. Lucija averted her gaze. It had become something personal between them, and it wasn’t her place to watch. She’d seen Cullen’s eyes like that, a lifetime ago at Kinloch. The moment before he decided if he would give in and kiss her. Eira had been more than reluctant to talk about Cullen, and Lucija had left it at that. Perhaps once everything was over, Lucija could pin her down and make her be reasonable.</p><p>Cullen returned to his post as the doors crumbled inward in a splintering collapse. She heard the call of Cullen’s horn and she knew it was time. All the tingling anticipation in her legs pushed her forward. She was running in, behind Blackwall and a yelling Hawke. Her team burst through the wrecked doors and into a courtyard of the fortress. Darkness was falling quickly around them, only highlighting the flames that were scattered around the ruined stone. Shouts rang out around them. Eira released a surge of energy as two Warden mages hurled spells. Marjana had stepped onto a glyph, and her body was thrown backward in a burst of flame. Lucija, next to Eira, was already weaving her energy around her cousin, soothing her burns. Solas set protective glyphs of his own around the three mages, while the warriors charged and carved their blades into the enemy. The team pushed into the fortress, fighting their way up stairwells and through sand-strewn yards. Mages and demons were their main opposition. Marjana was in her element, ferocious and grim. She had always reveled in bloodshed. Kirkwall had been good for her, in that way. Or perhaps bad for her. The others followed along, watching the whirlwind of her fury. Lucija was quiet, but fierce. She hurled her spells faster and faster as they delved deeper into the fortress. Killing Wardens. Slaying her comrades. Innocents who were twisted and used against their will. People she may have been able to save, if she hadn’t put her duty behind her.</p><p>Finally, she reached a breaking point. The group was faced with a large force of warriors at a rallying point. Many there were injured or tending those who were. Marjana rushed forward, screaming as she raised her blade for yet another blow.</p><p>“Enough!” Lucija yelled. Power pulsed out from her, a tidal wave that crashed against all those around her. Her companions and her adversaries alike were frozen still. The Wardens swung their eyes around wildly, but couldn’t so much as twitch a finger. Lucija’s voice was raw, and boomed with an unnatural volume as she wove spellpower behind it.</p><p>“I am former Warden-Commander Amell. We do not need to fight you! You must see that what Clarel is doing is madness. The Inquisition is here to stop her, but there is no need for you to die!” Lucija felt raw power swirl around her, uncontained in her rage and grief. It tugged at her hair and seeped from her skin, a glowing swirling energy. Her face was streaked with soot. She could see, from the warriors’ terrified faces, that she had become the very sort of mage they feared most. Had they heard the stories about her? Did they recognize her name? Or was she just another mage bringing their death down upon them?</p><p>She waved her hands downward, releasing the spell that had frozen everyone in place. The Wardens opposite them tested the movement of their limbs. Eira’s team readied themselves to attack. The Wardens, though, began to drop to a knee. It seemed they had respect left for the name of Warden-Commander Amell. That, or they were sufficiently frightened. Lucija’s breath came in ragged spurts as she ordered the fit to follow and fight with them and the injured to surrender to the Inquisition forces. </p><p>Eira shifted anxiously as her team took a moment to heal their injuries. She clearly wanted to press forward. But Lucija knew that battles took time, and they would fail if they pressed too hard too quickly. Lucija drank her lyrium potions in greedy gulps, replenishing her power as quickly as she poured it into her companions’ flesh. Her cousin swore and spat at the pain, but none of the others complained. Solas set himself busy quietly reapplying protective spells. Eira’s gaze flicked again to the steep staircase ahead. Lucija had been so focused on the Wardens she hadn’t given much consideration to Cullen’s orders. She finished mending the worst of their injuries, and nodded to the Inquisitor. They could go.</p><p>They stormed up the steps toward the parapets. Eira ran faster as they heard the wrenching, inhuman scream of a demon. Marjana didn’t hesitate either, rushing forward with a yell. The team crested the stairs and spilled onto the wall, which was littered with the bodies of Inquisition soldiers and dead Wardens. Two monstrous pride demons patrolled the wall, stalking along its length. They were flanked by a team of Wardens. They seemed unperturbed by the cascades of fiery ballast soaring past. Marjana roared as she lunged at the thigh of the nearer demon. Eira set herself in a fighting stance alongside Lucija and Solas. Lucija focused on her cousin and her fellow Warden, surrounding them with wards and suffusing them with fierce energy. Sweat trailed down from her brow as she hurled spell after spell, weaving them with practiced precision. Blackwall was grounded and solid, an immovable force the demon crashed against. Marjana swung with an impossible ferocity. She was barely slowed by the raking gashes the demon opened in her skin, which Lucija repaired with lightning speed. It must be hell, the opening and closing and opening of flesh. Marjana seemed not to notice.</p><p>The demon fighting blackwall turned its attention toward the mages at the back of the fight. It lumbered over, footsteps shaking the stones beneath their feet. Blackwall couldn’t keep it back as it towered over him and swept him aside. It came closer and closer, thundering steps like the frantic beating of Lucija’s heart. Solas fade-stepped away, but Eira remained. Her eyes went wide with fear. Lucija swore and began tugging bright-blue vials from her pockets. Eira grabbed one from her outstretched hand, but the demon saw its chance. It lunged forward with its enormous hand and grabbed Eira, lifting her body from the ground. She screamed and thrashed, feeling the barbed fingers crushing her body. Eira whimpered in pain. The demon laughed, sick echoes like metal scraping against glass. Lucija cast the same spells he had used to freeze the Wardens earlier, but directed all its power at the demon’s hulking form. It froze in place, hand still crushing Eira’s body. Eira gasped in air, unable to expand her chest enough for a proper breath. But at least it couldn’t hurl her from the parapets.</p><p>Blue liquid trailed from the corners of Lucija’s mouth as she drank yet another lyrium potion.<br/>
She would be groggy and hungover from it later, she always was when she channeled this much power in and out. A Warden warrior approached her and bashed her with his shield. Lucija crumpled to the ground immediately. Her robes were stained red with blood. Eira wriggled in the demon’s grasp, but couldn’t free herself. A shimmering blue energy appeared around Lucija, a barrier from Solas. Another Warden joined the first and pressed his knee to Lucija’s neck. She ordered them to stop, as the Ferelden Warden-Commander, but they looked unimpressed. It didn’t matter if it was because she wasn’t anymore, or because they would never have answered to her anyway. They were ready to kill her the second they broke through Solas’s protection.</p><p>An angry green rift opened just beyond the parapet. It sucked insistently. The Wardens atop Lucija were unprepared. They flew backward, tugged by a million invisible hands. Their faces were stricken with fear. Lucija rooted herself to the ground with a flash of light. The Wardens scrabbled, trying to get a handhold. Their bodies flew outward. They grabbed at the crenellations on the wall, their feet tugged out over the edge. One by one they lost purchase, bodies flung out into nothing.</p><p>The demon around her began to move again, regaining control of its wretched body. A jolt of electricity ran through Eira’s body, then it released her. She fell to the ground, smacking against the stones of the battlement. Her head crashed with a wet smack. Over her, Marjana drove her sword deeper into the creature’s belly, leaning all her weight in. It screamed. Black blood oozed out. She braced herself and wrenched the sword out, and the demon’s guts followed in a sick outpouring. Marjana stabbed it again and again, screaming fiercely. Her chest heaved with exertion. Varric came up and pulled her away from the demon’s mangled corpse.</p><p>“Easy, Killer. You got it.”</p><p>The look in her eyes was wild as she walked over to Eira and pulled her up. She swung Eira’s arm up over her shoulders and began walking her to where Blackwall was finishing off the other demon. Lucija pushed herself up from the ground and rushed to the injured women. Marjana was the most obviously bloodied. She examined Marjana hurriedly, despite the woman’s insistence that she was fine. </p><p>“Sparky’s the one who needs looked at, Luci. Leave me be,” she said, gruff.</p><p>“Oh hush,” Lucija answered, but did indeed turn her attention to Eira’s wound. Her head spun unpleasantly as she pulsed magic through the crack at the back of Eira’s skull. She was becoming exhausted. Eira twitched and fiddled as Lucija worked. She could feel her anxiety building. They had cleared a path for the Inquisition’s soldiers to scale the walls, just as the Inquisition had asked. Now they needed to find Clarel. That would be the real confrontation. And the Warden-Commander had well enough warning to know they were coming. There was no telling what she would have prepared. No knowing what she would do to defend herself. No predicting what Lucija would have to to do her own people to stop them.</p><p>“Clarel. We need to find Clarel,” Eira said, regaining some clarity. Lucija’s gaze was dark as she nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Lead the way, Boss,” Marjana said. It should have been lighthearted, but there was a bloody edge to her voice. Marjana Hawke thrived on violence. Eira hesitated, then strode to the edge of the battlement. She drew a ragged breath in, then shot three precise fireballs up into the darkening dusk air above.</p><p>“So Cullen will know to send the troops. We’ll need them behind us when we find Clarel.” Eira looked out over the Inquisition forces below, but Lucija’s eyes scanned the innermost parts of the fortress. Every step into this mess had been a new stab of guilt and fear, slowly pulling her apart. But she would go one. She would not shirk her duty again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Writers block? Draw your characters!</p><p>Lucija Amell<br/>https://www.deviantart.com/thelittlestchocobo/art/Warden-Amell-864163284</p><p>Marjana Hawke<br/>https://www.deviantart.com/thelittlestchocobo/art/Hawke-864286503</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Chapter 42</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A confrontation with Clarel and Erimond</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wardens, we are betrayed by the very world we have sworn to protect!”</p>
<p>She could be no one else but Warden-Commander Clarel. Her grey hair was close cropped to her head, and her face was lined with years. She strode with purpose. Her scaled robes gleamed in the hazy green light. A faceted black staff was strapped across her back. She was up on a cavalier than stood amidst the courtyard, addressing the crowd of Wardens below and before her. Her voice was clear and firm, with an Orlesian lilt. Eira could hear her easily, despite the distance and the sounds of fighting around them. Inquisition soldiers had moved in quickly and efficiently, clearing the path Eira and her team had followed to the heart of the fortress. She could hear the Commander’s horn through the clashes and screams. She hoped he was safe. They approached the parade ground, a great stone yard occupied by Warden mages adn warriors. Anger flashed inside her as she spied Livius Erimond speaking with Clarel. He kept his voice low enough that the Wardens below didn’t appear to hear. Clarel had a bitter look on her face as she squared with him, saying something Eira couldn’t hear. At least she didn’t appear friendly with the man. If there was any strife between them, maybe they could exploit it. It was easier to drive a wedge in when there was already a gap.</p>
<p>Erimond turned and glared at the party as they approached. The Wardens, mostly mages, stepped between the newcomers and the stairs to the dais. Several brandished their staves threateningly. Clarel turned to face them, front of her robes drenched in blood. A body slumped at her feet, his neck slashed open and spilling wine red blood. </p>
<p>“Stop them! We must complete the ritual!” Erimond shouted to the Wardens. Lucija held up a hand to her companions and stepped forward. The Wardens were visibly confused, torn between following Erimond’s command and the appearance of the former Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Lucija’s ceremonial armor glinted dangerously in the light of the sinuous green thread of energy, a rift that Erimond and the Wardens were waiting to pull open.</p>
<p>“Clarel! This stops now. You must see that this is madness! Look at yourself. A blood mage raising a demon army. Don’t become that. It’s not too late to turn back.” Lucija called out to her Orlesian counterpart.</p>
<p>“And leave the world without any Wardens in the next Blight? Is that what you want?” Erimond yelled back. Clarel looked between him and Lucija, face unreadable. Eira tensed, looking at the Tevinter man. She reached out and put a hand on Marjana’s arm, keeping the woman from rushing forward as she clearly wanted to do. It would look better if the former Warden could convince Clarel to stop. The rest of the Wardens were more likely to follow if Warden-Commander Amell could convince them, rather than the outside force of the Inquisition. Eira didn’t want to wound their pride if she could avoid it. They had already done so with the Templars. Besides, there was very little chance that Marjana would have something useful to add. Her particularly aggressive negotiation style would just start a bloodbath. Marjana growled low in her throat, but stayed where she was.</p>
<p>“And yes, the ritual involves blood magic. Hate me for that, if you must, but do not condemn the Wardens for doing their duty,” Erimond said, sweeping his hands forward toward the Wardens below him.</p>
<p>“Duty? How dare you speak to me of a Warden's duty?” Lucija yelled. Emotion crept into her voice, angry and grief-stricken both at once.</p>
<p>“We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors will proudly die for a world that will never thank them. You must understand that, <i>Hero of Ferelden</i>,” Clarel said. Her voice was imperious as she went to stand next to Erimond. </p>
<p>“There is no pride in this!” Blackwall bellowed. Clarel regarded him with a cold stare. Eira needed to act. Clarel wasn’t responding to their appeals to honor.</p>
<p>“Your Tevinter ally binds your Wardens to Corypheus,” she said, stepping up next to Lucija. She felt the hum of energy around her, the whisperings from the rift. She spoke to Clarel, but her eyes never left Livius Erimond. The man sneered.</p>
<p>“Corypheus… but he’s dead. <i>She</i> killed him, did she not?” Clarel said, pointing to Marjana. </p>
<p>“This isn’t my fucking fault. People need to stop putting their shit on me,” Marjana spat. Eira flinched. Hawke would drag this conversation so far from anything useful. </p>
<p>“These people will say anything to shake your resolve, Clarel,” Erimond said, placing his hand on her arm. She ran her hand along her forehead, grimacing as if in pain. The sounds of battle rang out behind them, the Inquisition soldiers pulling ever so slightly closer to the ritual space. The Wardens stood conflicted, shifting nervously as they waited to hear their orders. Eira’s body was tense. Her fingers twitched as she tried to keep herself still. Maybe Clarel would call the Wardens off. Clarel sighed deeply, then squared her shoulders and faced her soldiers.</p>
<p>“Bring it through.”</p>
<p>“No!” Lucija screamed, turning to address the soldiers. “Stop, that’s an order! I’ve seen enough blood magic, it never ends well.” The mages poured themselves into the rift, ignoring her, calling forward green energy so familiar to Eira. The crack in the air pulsed and flared, then roared to life. </p>
<p>“Be ready with the ritual, Clarel. This demon will be powerful, truly worthy of your strength,” Erimond said, a hint of a smile on his lips. </p>
<p>“Do not let this be your legacy, Clarel! The Wardens are more than this! You all, you are being used. Do not let yourselves be twisted into this!” Lucija was crying as she yelled, voice growing hoarse. A great demon poured forth from the rift, its body sickly fluid. The Wardens before them looked to one another, fear evident in their eyes. They began to murmur to each other, lowering their weapons. Clarel faltered.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we could test the truth of these claims. We could avoid more bloodshed,” Clarel said, looking to Erimond. He scowled and turned away.</p>
<p>“It seems it is time to bring in a more reliable ally,” Erimond said darkly. He grabbed his staff and flourished it forward. “My master thought you might join me, Inquisitor. He sent me this to welcome you!” Erimond banged the bottom of his staff against the stone beneath his feet. Crackles of red ripped from it and shot outward. Pain lanced through Eira’s palm, and she fell to the ground with a scream. Bolts of red light spurted forth from Erimond’s staff. He laughed, throwing his head back in glee. Eira struggled to her feet as she heard Marjana yell.</p>
<p>“What the <i>FUCK</i> is that?”</p>
<p>Eira heard the dragon before she saw it. It swooped low toward them, unleashing a great spray of fluorescent-red fire. It crackled and sparked as it tore across the ritual ground. Eira felt herself thrown aside, as if a wall of force had crashed into her. She tumbled into Marjana and Blackwall, the three tumbled together into a heap. The ground where she had been was pulsing angrily with red energy. Lucija was already upon them, pulling her cousin to her feet. Eira’s eyes met Clarel’s as she stood upon the cavalier. The woman’s face was hard, angry.</p>
<p>“Run, Inquisitor!” she screamed to Eira. Clarel brandished her staff and sent forth a burst of electricity toward Erimond. The dragon turned its attention toward her. That was all that Eira needed. Solas pulled her up to her feet, and she bolted. They ran past the Wardens, now panicked and fleeing in all directions. Eira ran onward, leading her team toward the citadel at the center of the fortress. They dashed up the short steps to the alure that surrounded the citadel, walled on one side by the citadel itself and ceilinged by the flying buttresses that laced overhead. The parapets offered little protection, open to the singed evening air. Eira slowed only slightly as she approached the corner, turning sharply to the right to avoid careening into the low wall. Her lungs burned with effort, and she pushed her pounding feet forward. </p>
<p>“Look out!” Lucija yelled. A great blast of ruby red fire exploded in Eira’s path. She felt herself yanked backward by Lucija’s magic, pulling her body from the path of the ruby flames. The dragon screeched as it flew around the citadel tower to face them. It readied another blast of energy to level at them. Solas stepped forward and raised his staff aloft. A great shimmering energy filled the space between the buttresses, creating a wall between the dragon’s breath and the team. As the fire crashed against the barrier, Eira’s vision swam red. Just like in her nightmares. She realized she was screaming, though the sound was barely audible over the sound of the dragon’s power. It was like glass shattering. She looked around frantically, and pulled the nearest person, Marjana, with her toward a door into the fortress itself. They ran through an abandoned hall, their breath ragged and harsh against the sudden silence. Eira had no idea where they were going. She wished she had spent more time reviewing the plans of the fortress. But there was nothing to be done now. </p>
<p>“This way!” Varric yelled, running up behind her and veering to the left. He was surprisingly fast for someone with legs so short. They ran down a cold stone hallway. Eira’s eyes caught on the windows at one side. Everything outside was flashes of light. Red crackling energy and Clarel’s blue electricity and the angry green rift. She lost her balance and careened to the side as the wall exploded inward, stones crashing and flying toward the team. The dragon’s head appeared in the newly formed hole. Its serpentine eyes locked on Eira. Without thinking, Eira raised her staff and shot a great bolt of electricity straight into the dragon’s eyes. It roared and withdrew. Eira started running again, although her legs were weak and burning. They passed through a stone doorway and back out onto the alure, now with the parade ground far behind. The team was faced with a great causeway of arching stone. Clarel stood upon it, hurling bolts of energy toward the circling dragon. Eira ran to her, trying not to look at the great distance between herself and the ground. The causeway passed over a great chasm, a rocky maw gulping beneath them.</p>
<p>Eira could hear yelling and trumpets around her. She had no idea where she was anymore, but the Inquisition forces were close. If she could hold off the dragon, perhaps they could help her once they got to her. She stood with Clarel and added her energy to the assault. The dragon turned somersaults in the air, sinuous and elegant, avoiding the bolts around it. It roared again, a piercing scraping sound. Eira gritted her teeth as she continued. She was exhausted. All of her hurt. She didn’t have time to decide if any of her injuries were serious. All she could do was continue the assault. </p>
<p>The dragon flew overhead, and Clarel dove aside. Eira wasn’t fast enough. The dragon’s tail whipped down, throwing Eira aside. The breath was crushed from her lungs as she smacked into the causeway’s stone parapet. She fell to the ground, dazed. Someone screamed, but she didn’t know who. She moved her eyes wildly, but couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Her ears were assaulted with noises. She tasted blood in her mouth. The dragon’s roar brought her attention to the spot before her, where the dragon was swooping for another assault. It opened its great jaws and its red energy burned forward. Toward Eira. She was going to die. She stared blankly at it, unable to think of what to do. The fire suddenly erupted outward. Then, Clarel stepped in its path. She twisted the energy itself, bending it to her will. Blood poured from fresh gashes along her forearms. She forced the burst of energy back toward the dragon, and weaved her own electricity into it. It was an unholy whorl of light. It caught the dragon head on. It let out a horrific squeal of pain. Clarel crumpled to the ground, her body singed and ruined by the forces she had controlled. The dragon tumbled downward, writhing and screaming. It crashed into the causeway, tearing and wrenching the stone. It began to crumble. The ground shook beneath them. Eira began pulling herself to her feet, head spinning with the effort. Lucija ran toward her and pulled her up. They ran, then, trying to reach the safety of the fortress. Something solid. But each push of Eira’s feet only wrenched stone aside. Then she met nothing. Air. There was a brief moment of weightlessness, before she plunged downward. She screamed, falling faster and faster. She held her hands out and closed her eyes. There was a blinding flash of green light, then nothing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fortresses have immensely complicated names for all of the million different parts of them. That's what I learned while trying to describe where the fuck the team was running.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Chapter 43</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira and her companions enter the Fade</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira felt the lurch in her stomach as her falling halted. Not by an impact with the ground, but with a sudden slowing. She opened her eyes as the direction of her fall reversed. She reached her feet up and crashed to the ground above her. Or perhaps below her. She certainly did seem solidly attached to the ground, and her braid fell down toward her feet. She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if she could physically reset her sense of direction. Opening her eyes again she felt almost normal as she looked out over the desolate landscape before her. </p>
<p>“Luci! What in <i>Andraste’s fucking taint</i> is going on?” Marjana yelled. Eira swung her head to find the woman and lost her balance, falling to her knees and bracing one hand against the ground to stop herself from toppling over. She wasn’t sure if she was destabilized by the sudden head movement or the fact that Marjana was <i>standing on the ground, perpendicular to Eira</i>. The ground jutted up at a right angle to where Eira was, like some enormous stone column, and Marjana stood firm against it. </p>
<p>“Shit, are we dead?” Varric said. He stood on a rocky outcropping, his feet facing up into Eira’s sky and secure against the underside of the rock. </p>
<p>“We are in the Fade,” Solas said. He stood on the ground next to Eira, appearing perfectly composed. He looked around, his eyes wide with wonder. Which was unlike him. He was never surprised by anything. </p>
<p>“It’s not the way I remember,” Lucija said.</p>
<p>“You have been to the Fade before, Lucija?” Solas asked. Lucija walked down her stalagmite of grey rock and stepped onto the plane with Eira and Solas, without any trouble. She seemed to handle the inconsistent gravity without much thought.</p>
<p>“Of course. I was a circle mage, we go through our Harrowing here. I returned several times, too. Once to save Connor Guerrin from a demon possessing him, and once when the Kinloch tower was overrun. I remember things being much more fluid before. I could change my shape. I can’t seem to do that now.” She held up her hand before her face and concentrated, as if she were expecting something to happen. “It didn’t look this solid, either. It was all bits and pieces. Smaller paths, doorways. This is… a massive wasteland.”</p>
<p>“You were in the Fade in spirit before, as is usual for a mortal. Now I believe we are in the Fade physically. It is not a feat many mortals have achieved. Though perhaps not surprising. It is the purpose of the Anchor” Eira swung her head around in panic. She saw Varric and Blackwall climbing down from their unnatural perches, and heard Marjana’s incessant stream of curses behind her. Lucija and Solas stood together before her, gazing out over the scenery. The ground seemed solid enough, made of some sort of stone or dirt. Dark. It crunched when she walked on it. The sky was a swirl of distant fog. The light was diffuse, coming from everywhere and nowhere. It was persistently green, giving everyone’s skin a sickly hue. Except, no, there was a red light behind her. Eira turned and regarded a towering crystal behind her. Red lyrium. She shrank back with a start. She turned to her companions again.</p>
<p>“Was it like this before? You came out of the Fade in Haven, right?” Lucija asked, turning to her.</p>
<p>“I still can’t remember what happened before I woke up in the cell in the Chantry.”</p>
<p>“Being beaten up by our beloved Seeker,” Varric added, looking at Marjana and motioning across his eyebrow, a pantomime of Eira’s scar.</p>
<p>“Ha! You should come up with a better story for that scar, Sparky,” Marjana said. Eira scowled at the pair. How could they be making stupid jokes right now? </p>
<p>“I do not know what demon controls this place, it is not an area of the Fade I have visited before,” Solas said. He stepped forward gently, running his hand over the stones before him. They were damp with what looked like water. Eira could hear trickling, as if there were a stream nearby. Eira crewed up her face in concentration, focusing all her energy on her hand. Nothing. Not even a flicker of light on her palm. Just the lazy, hazy glow. Either she didn’t know how to open a rift from inside the Fade, or it wasn’t possible.</p>
<p>“The rift at the ritual tower, we never closed it. Maybe we can get out that way?” she asked Solas, voice tinged with hope.</p>
<p>“Perhaps. It is worth trying, <i>lethallin</i>.”</p>
<p>“Right. Well, ah, let’s get going, then,” she said, turning to her companions. Blackwall was silent, his face paler than she had ever seen. Marjana swore under her breath, and Varric ribbed at her. Lucija barely looked at any of them, her eyes fixed above at some far-away point. Eira turned and walked the only way she could, toward the canyon of dark stone rising ahead of them. The team followed, and soon they were swallowed up whole.</p>
<p>They walked through the canyon. Eira’s feet were quickly soaked by the water pooling along the sandy ground. Great cliffs and spires of dark rock rose up around them, looming in the dusky light. There were statues carved into the rock at irregular intervals. Some mimicked Chantry carvings, with Andraste leering down at Eira. Some were twisted imitations of Dalish works. Or rather, one work. They were all statues of Fen’Harel. They needed little persuasion to become predatory, tricksy things. Eira shuddered, avoiding the eyes of the wolf statues around. They walked in silence, listening to the drip drip drip of the water that snaked over the cliffs and wound its way down to them. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw veins of red lyrium through the stone, but they never appeared when she looked to the cold stone walls. </p>
<p>They walked for what felt like miles. The canyon paths twisted and branched. Eira looked to Solas for guidance as they chose their direction. He seemed far away, lost in thought. Eventually, after hours of plodding along, Eira felt a hand on her shoulder. She yelped and spun, staff raised, to find Varric, hands raised in alarm. </p>
<p>“Easy there!” Eira lowered her staff at once. She hugged one arm around herself protectively, and murmured an apology to the dwarf.</p>
<p>“We’ve been walking for hours. I think it’s time we stopped for the… night. Or whatever it is. Damned hard to tell in this place,” he said. Eira looked past him at her companions. They were worn, pained. Eira nodded an agreement.</p>
<p>There was little comfort to be had. They were without tents or bedrolls. There was no wood to be seen to make a fire. There was no food. They lodged themselves in a shallow cave. Eira and Lucija set to clearing the water from the ground and levelling it. The team settled in, and they dined on the water dripping in a steady stream down the cliffside. They settled in to sleep on the cold ground. Eira settled herself next to Solas, listening as Lucija murmured the Chant of Light as she settled in for the first watch. She gazed up, incessant, at the great black mass hanging in the sky, far off and yet ever present.</p>
<p>
  <i>At a touch, the gate swung wide,<br/>And the Light parted before them like a curtain<br/>Swept aside by nothing. Fearful to touch them.<br/>And none saw the black mark<br/>Spreading like a sore upon the shining gate<br/>Where mortal hand had lain.</i>
</p>
<p>Sleep came in fits and starts, weaving in and out. The sounds of Lucija crying softly, talking. Maybe chanting, but Eira couldn’t quite make out the words. Then more sleep. It was difficult to tell where sleep ended and waking began, since her dreams were green-tinged, red-lyrium-addled nightmares. It was strange that she dreamed here, really. It would have been a curious thing, if she weren't so preoccupied with their survival. She tossed and turned, drifting in and out of dreams, until she became aware of a voice from the mouth of the cavern. She roused herself groggily.</p>
<p>Marjana was talking to someone, her voice a whisper so loud and harsh that Eira wondered why she had bothered. And there was another voice. She didn’t recognize the other voice. Was Hawke talking to... a demon?</p>
<p>“You thought you could defeat a god? You couldn’t even save your own city,” the deep voice said. Eira grabbed her staff and carefully raised herself to her feet, making to creep toward the cave entrance.</p>
<p>“You’re going to lose the only people you have left, now. The last of your family are Wardens. They’ll be his thralls soon enough. I’ll make sure Varric doesn’t survive this little trip, and then you’ll be truly alone.”</p>
<p>“Fuck off. You don’t know anything!” Marjana hissed. </p>
<p>“Maybe he’ll turn Lucija and Bethany against you. Make you kill them just like you did to me,” the voice said. It shifted, growing higher and smoother, and gaining a Ferelden accent. It was no longer the rasping, ethereal voice of a demon. It was the voice of a man, and, based on the things it was saying, a man that Marjana knew well. Eira peeked around the corner of the cave and saw Marjana, sitting alone on a rock. Talking to nothing.</p>
<p>“First you killed me, the only man who’s ever loved you, then you could kill your cousin and your beloved sister. It’d be quite a list, you know. Perhaps the first impressive thing you’d ever done.”</p>
<p>“How <i>dare</i> you use his voice, demon?”</p>
<p>“But Yana, you forget. I am a demon. Well, an abomination, really. I never hid <i>that</i> from you. You knew the whole time. Did you think your love would somehow change that about me? You always were vain like that. I always had more important things in my life than you.” Marjana shook, though Eira couldn’t tell if it was with grief or rage. “Do you ever wonder, Yana darling, if you hadn’t been so busy playing house and ignoring all the hints about what I was going to do, do you think you even could have stopped me? Would you have had the courage to risk losing my affection? Do you ever feel like the blood of those people in the Kirkwall chantry is on your hands, my love?”</p>
<p>“Stop it!” Marjana yelled. Eira jumped at the sudden noise. She heard Blackwall startle awake behind her. Eira stepped forward toward her.</p>
<p>“Hawke, are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Eavesdropping on things that aren’t your fucking business, Inquisitor?” Marjana turned her piercing, furious gaze on Eira. Her face was streaked with tears, and twisted in ugly pain. She wiped at her cheeks and smeared the red paint there across her face. Eira shrank back a step at her intensity.</p>
<p>“You weren’t exactly being quiet. Were you talking to a demon?” Eira looked around but didn’t see anything.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you ask my cousin? She’s the smart one.”</p>
<p>“I was just asking! Not trying to pick a fight.” Eira raised her hands, palms out toward Marjana, in what she hoped was a pacifying gesture. As if anything could pacify Marjana Hawke.</p>
<p>“Well I wasn’t looking for your opinion, oh blessed Herald. You think you’re so above it, don’t you? Like you’re better than everyone around you. But you’re just some prim little elvish princess. Well I’m sorry about your hand, but some of us have had to deal with some real fucking tragedy. Not the kind that turns us into some reluctant religious hero. Just death and fucking torment. Keep your fucking judgment to yourself until you know what it’s like.” Eira stood completely stunned. She was trying to comfort the woman. She hadn’t expected such a personal attack. Marjana got up and walked by her, shoving into her shoulder roughly. Eira stumbled back at the force, as Marjana was much larger and stronger.</p>
<p>“You’ve got watch now. I need a fucking walk.” Marjana strode off without looking back. Eira considered calling out to her, trying to stop her. Was it really a good idea for her to go off alone? But she wasn’t sure what she could say that would actually convince the woman. Eira watched her walk off, then jumped as she realized Varric was next to her.</p>
<p>“Don’t take it personal, Sparky. Hawke gets that way when she’s mad. I’ll give her a minute head start and go after her.” All Eira could do was nod. How could she not take it personally? Was she really the way Marjana had said? She looked back at the makeshift camp, where the others were watching uncomfortably. Lucija gave her an inscrutable look, then settled back down to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Chapter 44</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tensions rise as Eira and her team navigate the fade.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning never came, just as the night never really had. The team decided to rouse after several rotations of watch. No one could tell how long it had been, but no one had slept particularly well. Better to continue on and find a way out. Marjana and Varric had returned at some point in the night. Lucija broke down the meager camp with expert precision, falling easily back on her years of experience living roughly. She had become accustomed to the comfort of the Denerim palace over the past two years, but she had always lived an austere life before that. The circle was hardly opulent. She carefully swept away the traces of their time there, though she wasn’t sure if there were creatures to follow them, or if they would be sensitive to those mundane signs.</p>
<p>It took little time for the rest of the team to prepare to leave, just long enough for Blackwall and Marjana to strap themselves into their heavy armor. There was no food to eat, so they did their best to fill their stomachs with cool water, as if that would sate the gnawing hunger. They set out in silence, pushing through the low, hazy light that suffused the canyon. </p>
<p>Lucija looked out above them, to the great floating islands in the murky sky. She wondered if any were the ones she had visited. If she tried hard enough, could she see the quaint chunk of land where Mouse had tested her? They’d chosen Cullen to kill her if she had failed, though he hadn’t ever held the role in a Harrowing before. Greagoir must have finally caught on to the two of them. But Lucija had passed her Harrowing, and her lover was spared the fate of becoming her killer. Had she remained in the circle much longer, she would have found out if Cullen's fears were justified, if the punishment for mages and Templars who carried on together were as harsh as he thought. </p>
<p>Perhaps, if she searched, she could find the sprawling domain of the sloth demon. She looked to her own hands ruefully. That time in the Fade had been terrifying, of course. But it had also been exhilarating. To change her shape, to twist herself into whatever form she needed, had been a heady rush of power. Had those been the best days of her life? She had such purpose then. It had been brutal misery, but there had been such fire. Fighting, running, falling in love. Everything had been more colorful. The world was washed out now. But maybe that wasn’t the complacency of her kept life at the palace. Maybe it was the sweet song itching at the back of her mind. It was difficult to care about anything anymore, not when the sweetest symphony lay just below the ground. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stop herself from stealing away in the night, seeking it out, drinking it in. Crawling to the Deep Roads and wading into that siren's call. Most Wardens didn’t fight it as long as she had been. Nearly a year now. The skin on her limbs was beginning to decay before her eyes, growing blackened and shriveled. Like darkspawn flesh. She had left the palace when the patches appeared. They were small things, at first, mistakable for a pox. But they had begun to join together into sores, and she knew she was delaying the inevitable. She knew she should tell Alistair, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t want the end of her time with him to hang under a pall of grief. She needed to see him smile until the end. Her darling, her beloved Alistair. To think, they had been through war and dark rituals and the horror of the Blight, and now she was going to just slip away from him, fade into madness alone. </p>
<p>The painful silence was broken suddenly as a great, booming laugh rang out over them. Lucija wheeled around, looking for the demon that she couldn’t see. The others huddled close, with Blackwall and Marjana brandishing their weapons threateningly. </p>
<p>“I told you already to fuck off!” Marjana yelled, tipping her head back to look up into the sky.</p>
<p>“We’ve already had our talk, my love. You can’t have me all to yourself,” Anders’s voice rang out from above them. Marjana shouted obscenities, but the sky did not answer her.</p>
<p>"Varric, Hawke is in danger again because of you. You and all that red lyrium your family let loose when you dug into that Thaig. It's a shame they won't let you back in Orzammar, you'd fit in so well."</p>
<p>"They don't know what they're missing," Varric joked back. The smirk he wore didn't quite reach his eyes, though.</p>
<p>“Ah, and Blackwall. There’s nothing like a Grey Warden… and you are <i>nothing</i>. Like. A Grey Warden.” The voice had changed, but not to one that Lucija recognized. It sounded like a child. Blackwall seethed with anger.</p>
<p>“Come let me prove it to you, coward!” he called back. The voice merely laughed in response.</p>
<p>“But perhaps that is a good thing. After all, the Wardens are blood mages now. Just like your dear old Jowan. You killed him for that, Lucija. Don’t you agree, then, that your precious Wardens deserve the same fate?” The voice had shifted again. Though she had not seen him in many years, Lucija would never forget the man who had been her mentor for so long.</p>
<p>“Irving did not believe in absolutes. You’ve done a poor impression of him.” Lucija did her best to sound confident. Jowan hadn’t deserved to die. It had taken her years to realize that. </p>
<p>“So you think the Wardens should be forgiven, then? Or are you just guilty for leaving?”</p>
<p>“I don’t negotiate with demons.” Lucija’s mouth was pressed thin. </p>
<p>“You might have stopped them from making this choice, if you hadn’t retired to the palace to waste your time with me and my Queen,” the demon continued. The sound was like a blow to Lucija’s chest. Alistair. She thought she wouldn’t ever hear his voice again. And there it was. “You could have been someone great, you could have done such amazing things with your life. But you decided to spend it as my palace whore. And you called me your husband. As if I would ever have married a mage. Still, though, do you think I’ll fall apart when my Calling ends and yours doesn’t? You never found the courage to tell me. Will you just disappear without telling me why? What might happen to your country if its King is lost in grief?”</p>
<p>“I will not engage you. That is enough,” Lucija said. She looked down at the ground, face flushed red. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She had given so much to the Wardens. She had given them the decades of her life she wouldn’t ever see, by the grace of the Maker. Had she betrayed them by allowing herself two years’ time with her husband? </p>
<p>The seconds stretched onward as they waited for a reply, but none came. Finally, Eira suggested they start moving again. Lucija followed behind, numb. She made no effort to wipe away the tears that streaked down her cheeks. It was bad enough to think about Alistair’s broken heart when she didn’t return to him. She couldn’t stand knowing that her whole legacy, the seven years she spent as Commander of the Grey, would be stolen from her. Everything undone. It was injustice for it to fall apart when she wouldn’t be around to fix it. It was cruelty that she had to watch.</p>
<p>The team crested the hill to a small basin, surrounded by tall, rolling walls of rocky soil. At the center of the basin was an orb of green light, bobbing lazily in the air. Lucija reached forward and grabbed her cousin’s shoulder, as the other woman drew her sword and stepped quickly toward it. She wasn’t much match for Marjana’s strength, but she pulled sharply to get her to stay put.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Luci! What gives?”</p>
<p>“You’ll get killed if you go in sword first. The Fade is dangerous.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need babysitting,” Marjana snapped back. </p>
<p>“<i>Maker</i>, your ego! It’s not about you, Yana. You can’t just touch strange things here.”</p>
<p>“All hail Amell, Queen of the Fade,” Marjana intoned, punctuated with a sarcastic bow. Lucija scoffed angrily. She hated when her cousin got like this. She was in no mood for Marjana’s self-centeredness, not now. Not while she was waiting to die.</p>
<p>“Eira! <i>Elen</i>!” Solas yelled behind her. She didn’t speak Elvhen, but she recognized the fear in his voice. She turned to see Eira walking toward the orb, transfixed. She reached out and took it in her hand, and for a moment Lucjia’s vision was consumed with a flash of green light. She raised her arm to shield her eyes as the intensity of the light shot pain through her. </p>
<p>When she opened her eyes again, Lucija saw a room before her. A great stone hall had materialized around them. In the center there was a woman, dressed in the distinct garb of the Chantry’s Divine. She hovered above the floor, splayed out upright and bound by invisible powers.</p>
<p>“Somebody, help me!” she called out. Lucija ran toward her, reaching deep inside herself to draw power. She directed it carefully, disrupting and dispelling the bonds holding Divine Justinia aloft. Except, no, she was still held fast. The spell hadn’t taken. Lucija cast again, but realized she couldn’t feel the power of the spells holding the woman. That was odd. She rushed forward to tug at the woman, and realized she was surrounded by several mages. With horror, she noticed their attire. They were dressed in Warden mail, silver gryphons emblazoned across their chests. She reached forward to grab at one, to pull him away from his work. Her hand passed through his shoulder completely. Lucija breathed in deeply and stilled herself. Divine Justinia was dead. She had died nearly a year ago at the conclave. This must be a vision of some sort. And if she couldn’t undo it, she would have to watch and wait. Sometimes things in the Fade had a trick to them. Lucija stepped back, watching. Her stomach twisted as she saw the Wardens, faces hard, surrounding the Divine.</p>
<p>“Why you, of all people? Why are you doing this?” she pleaded. None of the Wardens spoke. Lucija didn’t recognize most of them, but she was sure she had met the Warden-Constable on one of her trips to Orlais. </p>
<p>“Keep the sacrifice still,” a low voice thrummed from behind her. A horrific parody of a man stepped into the room, brandishing a green-glowing orb toward the Divine. He was tall and grotesque, a mass of bone and gore and red lyrium shards, all stretched over with shreds of skin. Lucija gripped her staff tighter, but made no move as the creature did not notice her. This must be the Corypheus that Marjana and Eira had both encountered. He was every bit the monster they had said. He sneered at Divine Justinia, who held his gaze. She was a fierce old woman.</p>
<p>The great wooden door beside them burst open, and a lithe elven woman rushed in. Eira looked very different, dressed in servant livery rather than her Inquisitor’s finery, but it was undoubtedly her. Her eyes grew wide with shock as she took in the situation. Corypheus turned to her, growling low within his throat at the intruder. Divine Justinia jerked forward as the Warden mages’s attentions wavered, and smacked her hand out toward the monster’s outstretched arm. A fierce old woman indeed. He roared in anger as the orb he held flew from his grasp. It rolled toward Eira. The woman reached forward, stretching her unmarred hand out and securing the object the monster so clearly desired. She shrieked in pain, falling to her knees as her skin made contact with the sphere. The scream was shrill and high pitched. As Corypheus ran toward her, arms outstretched to reclaim his prize, her scream continued on. The air around her flashed and crackled with blinding streaks of green light, leaving afterimages in Lucija’s vision. Eira screamed louder and higher, inhumanly, until the room was filled with the piercing wail of boiling teakettle. Lucija clamped her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes shut as the light grew oppressively bright. Then, there was only deafening silence.</p>
<p>When she opened her eyes again, Lucija was standing in the basin in the Fade. Her companions stood around her, eyes wide with shock. Solas was at Eira’s side immediately, holding her arm tenderly and smoothing her hair as she shook.</p>
<p>“<i>ar avy aman’na, lethallan. Undirthir a’asahngar,</i>” he murmured to her softly. He continued on in words Lucija didn’t understand. She looked dazed. Marjana, however, looked furious. She stormed over to her cousin and pushed herself far too close, looming over her with her wide shoulders and heavy armor. Lucija refused to step back. Marjana could sniff out weakness anywhere.</p>
<p>“The Wardens have been involved this whole time. How could you not know that?” Marjana spat.</p>
<p>“I am not in charge of this! Even if I hadn’t retired, I never had authority over the Orlesian Wardens,” Lucija shouted back. The cousins were nose to nose, brown eyes narrowed at one another.</p>
<p>“First the Wardens kidnapped my sister to let that <i>monster</i> Corypheus free, and <i>I</i> had to clean it up. Now they went and killed the head of the fucking Chantry and <i>she</i> has to clean it up!” Marjana motioned to Eira, who was pale and grim as she watched them.</p>
<p>“Take some responsibility, since you want everything to be about you, Marjana! <i>You’re</i> the one that let Corypheus out, and <i>you’re</i> the one who didn’t kill him when you had the chance!”</p>
<p>“I did! I know I did! I saw him die!”</p>
<p>“Hawke, give it a rest. We need to get out of here, not fight with each other,” Varric said, stepping to her side. Lucija sighed, but Marjana did not back down from her aggressive stance. Lucija looked away first, conceding the argument to her cousin.</p>
<p>“I assume Corypheus took the Wardens’ minds, like he did in the Approach,” she said, voice low and even. She looked up and away, over Marjana’s shoulder, into the floating silhouette of the Black City. The one constant in the Fade. “We can argue about it after we escape this place.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I intend to.” Marjana backed down and walked away, fists clenched in anger.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I headcannon my Amell living in Denerim with Alistair and Anora in a polymaorous relationship, with Anora as his legal wife and Lucija as his "wife".</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As our viewpoint character (Lucija) doesn't speak Elvhen, I've roughly translated Solas's words to Eira. I took some liberties, given the rather abbreviated word list to use. Translation based <br/>on notes in Project Elvhen by FenxShiral</p>
<p>Imperative verb form surmised from Fear Demon speaking to Solas. Verb “to wait” surmised from verb “await”.</p>
<p>Solas, roughly, tells Eira he is keeping her safe, and that they learned of her destiny while watching the memory.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Chapter 45</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The team are lost in the Fade</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marjana balked when Eira suggested they stop to sleep. They had trudged on for hours, stopping only to lick their wounds after their skirmishes with minor demons. Lavellan’s snotty friend had called them “fearlings”, and Marjana supposed that worked well enough. She had been more surprised to hear that the others saw different things. Eira said they were bloated, decaying corpses coming to drag her under the water. Varric saw red-lyrium crazed thralls. Luci couldn’t decide if what she was fighting were Wardens or darkspawn, and she refused to say more. Both Solas and Blackwall refused to disclose the form of their adversaries. </p>
<p>But for Marjana, the fearlings were deeply personal. Each one wore a familiar face, a parade of the people she had lost. There was Carver, eviscerated by darkspawn and leaking his guts. He screamed for mercy as she cut him down. There was her mother, a pieced-together patchwork of parts. Her movements were jerky and stilted, but surprisingly fast. Her voice was a wet gurgle in her throat. And then there was Bethany, her Warden mage sister. A thrall of Corypheus. Reciting some declaration of the Elder One’s power. But of course, the nightmare wouldn’t be complete without Anders. Some of the demons wearing his face snarled and scrambled, their faces twisted in rage with eyes glowing blue. Some of them were flirty and cocksure, heavy-lidded eyes locked to hers as she cut them down. But worst were the ones who were silent and sad. They wore the same face the real Anders had when Marjana executed him in the street. She could barely bring herself to cut those demons down. She had spent years trying to shut out the memory of that day. Seeing it replayed again and again was agony.</p>
<p>And so when the Inquisitor had recommended they stop and rest, Marjana had resisted. They needed to get out, as quickly as possible. Every moment they spent here was living hell, and there was no reason to prolong it. Not that they knew where they were going. They may have been going in circles, probably were. There was no rift, no clue that they were any closer to finding a way out. But stopping to lie down wouldn't help anything. Lucija had agreed with Eira, however. Marjana saw how her shoulders sagged. Her gaze was far off, as it had been since they entered the Fade. Marjana didn’t ask, because she really didn’t care about whatever scholarly shit she was thinking. Marjana sulked as the team readied themselves to sleep. She had no way of knowing how long they had been here, of course, but based on the aching of her body and the fog in her head, it had been several days. She did not volunteer to take watch, despite the fact that she had no intention of sleeping. Eira was the one who wanted to stop, she could take some responsibility for it. </p>
<p>Marjana sat herself down on a rock, giving herself a view of the meager camp and the Inquisitor sitting on watch. She wasn’t really that bad, even if she was a bit out-of-touch. Marjana chewed her fingernails as she watched Eira staring at the sky. She wasn’t much like Merrill, the only other Dalish elf Marjana had known. That woman had been timid and just a bit dark. Eira was at least confident enough not to be punished around. And she was certainly more sensible. Looking back, it seemed strange to think how much Anders had disliked Merrill. How could he hate her for the magics she was involved with when he himself was… How long had he been planning the attack on the Chantry? Why hadn’t he said anything to her? Had he really loved her? Had anyone ever really loved her? Marjana swore as she bit her nail too close to the quick. Droplets of blood welled up under the edge of her fingernail. How strange that in a world of such agony, such a small thing could still hurt.</p>
<p>Being alone wasn’t bringing her any good. She got up with a huff and walked over to where Eira sat. The other woman didn’t look up as she settled down next to her. She was murmuring something to herself, and her face was blank and her gaze empty.</p>
<p>“You can sleep if you want. I’ll watch,” Marjana said. It was a peace offering. </p>
<p>“No… I… I don’t think I can.” Eira’s voice was soft and thin. </p>
<p>“Fine.” Marjana shrugged. She picked at the scabs along her forearm. Eira’s muttering was hard to make out, but Marjana decided it was in Elvhen. It was a strange language, she thought. She never spoke anything but Common. Might’ve been nice, a good way to tell secrets. Beth and Carver had made up a code when they were kids, drove Marjana crazy talking their secret nonsense around her. It would be like that, a good way to fuck with people. </p>
<p>“I don’t know why it’s whispering in my head,” Eria said.</p>
<p>“What? Maker’s tits, are you possessed or something?”</p>
<p>“No, it… it’s that demon that talked to everyone. It’s just whispering to me though. It hasn’t stopped the whole time. Just goes on and on.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it thinks it’ll get to you better that way?” Luci would’ve had some sort of answer for this, and she suspected that snotty Solas fellow would as well. All Marjana knew was that the demon was fucking with them.</p>
<p>“Maybe.”</p>
<p>“What’s it say? Telling you to kill us all?” Marjana said. Her tone was just shy of the joke she was trying to make. </p>
<p>“What? No!” Eira said, turning to look at Marjana incredulously. “It… it says... “ Eira sighed deeply, twisting the end of her braid in her fingers. “Deshanna says I’ve abandoned me people. I’m just a <i>shem</i> now. I lead a <i>shem</i> army, I’m the prophet of a <i>shem</i> religion, I love a <i>shem</i> man. She says I made a grave mistake, because they’ll never take me back. Even if they were willing to, no Dalish clan would be safe with me part of it. So now when the humans are done using me, I’ll have nowhere to go to.” Eira wrapped her arms around herself, but her face remained blank. </p>
<p>“Go somewhere else. I did when the Blight took Lothering,” Marjana said. Eira barked a short, bitter laugh.</p>
<p>“No one will take me in after this. Especially as a mage. I won’t belong anywhere, and there won’t be anywhere willing to take me in. Once the Inquisition is through with me, I’ll be hunted. For every person that wants to kiss my feet, there’s another who wants me burned as a heretic. Josephine’s tried to hide those letters from me, but I know.”</p>
<p>“You sound like you believe what the demon’s saying.”</p>
<p>“It’s not hard to believe.”</p>
<p>“That <i>demon</i> is lying to make us afraid. I thought you mages knew better than that.”</p>
<p>“Was it wrong about you?” Eira asked sharply, eyes fixed forward toward the hazy sky. Marjana’s face flushed hot with a rush of anger and shame. It hadn’t been wrong. She was a killer. She was the reason she was alone. She killed anyone she loved.</p>
<p>“No. It wasn’t.”</p>
<p>__________________________________</p>
<p>Marjana was filled with an increasing sense of dread. Which was fitting, in this place. It wasn’t the deep, painful fear that she was a monster, the one that the demon had prodded in the back of her mind. This was a more immediate fear. They were all going to die in here. She didn’t know how long it had been, but certainly a matter of days. She felt weak and dizzy from hunger, and the others were clearly no better. They spoke little, save for angry snapping at one another. Marjana noticed Eira was muttering under her breath, though she wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or some answer to the demon that was haunting her. Even Varric was silent. That’s how she knew it was bad. She stumbled over a rough patch of ground. The world swirled around her. She lost her balance. </p>
<p>“Yana,” Lucija sighed, turning to her. Her eyes were tired, sunken into her head. Marjana brushed her away as she stood. The others watched, dazed. As if they didn’t even realize they had stopped moving forward.</p>
<p>“Eira. We can’t keep this up,” she said. Eira didn’t turn to look at her.</p>
<p>“Sparky, you alright?” Varric asked. His voice was strained and tired, despite his attempt to sound like his usual lighthearted self. Eira continued to murmur to herself, eyes glazed, as if no one else was there.</p>
<p>“<i>Lethallan</i>,” Solas said, placing his hand on the Inquisitor’s arm. She jumped with a small yelp, as if she had been surprised somehow. Solas stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. She barely moved in response. But at least she was looking at them again.</p>
<p>“We can’t keep wandering around. We have no idea where we’re going or how to get to the blighted rift to get out. All we’re doing is starving faster,” Marjana said.</p>
<p>“We aren’t going to just give up,” Lucija said.</p>
<p>“I didn’t say that! We just have to… don’t you have some kind of plan, Luci? You’ve been in the fade loads of times before.”</p>
<p>“I had guides before. Spirits. The only one we have here is… clearly not kind.” Lucija sighed.</p>
<p>“Then we need a spirit who can help us. How do we get one?”</p>
<p>“It is possible to summon a spirit in the physical world, perhaps it is the same here,” Solas said. </p>
<p>“Even if it worked, it’s not like we just know a spirit to call to help us,” Lucija said, frustration in her voice. </p>
<p>“I know a spirit who owes me a great deal,” Marjana said. Her voice was dark and low. She looked to her cousin, eyes fierce and hard. “Warden-Commander, you remember Justice.”</p>
<p>______________________________________</p>
<p>Marjana and Lucija had fought, but ultimately Marjana had won out when Solas agreed to her plan. Not that she wanted his help. It irked her that Luci respected the elf’s opinion more than hers. He may be some sort of Fade lore expert, but Marjana was <i>family</i>. Lucija and Solas had set to the summoning, with Lucija refusing to look at Marjana as she cut her arm open to spill her blood. It was still ruby red here in the Fade. Lucija, for all her screaming and swearing as she fought with her cousin, had insisted that she be the one to do the ritual. She said she’d taken an oath to do whatever it took to defend others, and that included not letting the other two mages turn to something as dark as blood magic. Marjana thought she was being a bit dramatic, but it was in poor form to argue when you’d already won. Eira tried to help them with the ritual, but she frequently lost her focus. She was coming undone. It was like when Varric’s brother had found that lyrium idol. The whispering in his head had driven Bartrand mad. The same thing was happening to the Inquisitor in here, it seemed. </p>
<p>As Lucija and Solas completed their ritual there was a great sucking in of air, toward the circle they had drawn on the ground. Dust and mist swirled inward and seemed to solidify, until all the motion suddenly stopped. Marjana’s mouth hung open with shock. She had expected a spirit, or maybe a demon. They could look like anything, Lucija had said. But she hadn’t expected the brown eyes that stared back at her. </p>
<p>Anders.</p>
<p>She stepped forward before she could stop herself, before she could think better. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear. He felt so real. Just the way he always had. All rough stubble and warm, smooth skin. But his eyes were empty, regarding her with a cold dispassion. Because he wasn’t Anders. Anders was dead. Marjana pulled her hand back sharply, her face creased into a dark frown. </p>
<p>“It’s been a long time, Justice.” Marjana’s tone was cold and hard.</p>
<p>“It has. It is good you are well, Warden-Commander Amell,” Justice said, turning to Lucija. </p>
<p>“You took enough from him. Why do you need to look like him here?” Marjana demanded. Justice turned to look at her again. The expression on Anders’s face was completely blank.</p>
<p>“I grew accustomed to looking like him. We were one for so long. Anders has little need for his visage now that you killed him, Hawke.”</p>
<p>“It’s your fault he’s dead,” Marjana spat. This demon had driven Anders to do such unthinkable things. How could it masquerade as him still? It was some fucking nerve.</p>
<p>“Anders and I executed our plan together. I did not compel him to do anything against his will. His distraction with you was one of the few things we did not agree on. And it seems I was right, since you were the one who killed him.” Marjana felt her face flush red with anger.</p>
<p>“You fucking monster, you killed innocent people! You took everything from me!” She jabbed her finger into Anders’s chest, her face inches from his. He remained calm and dispassionate, making her even angrier. Varric tugged her back, and she swung a punch at him in frustration. Justice turned to Lucija, ignoring the friends as they squabbled.</p>
<p>“I assume you did not bring me here to litigate Anders’s death. Tell me why you did.”</p>
<p>“We need to get out of here. We’re looking for a gate, a rift that leads out. We’re wandering in circles, we need you to lead us there.”</p>
<p>“Why should I help you?” Justice said. Marjana’s attention was back on him. Maker, he looked so much like Anders, then. He was so beautiful. Marjana swore she could feel the stab in her chest, like she had that day she had taken his life. It was all she could do to keep herself from grabbing him, kissing him feverishly, balling her fists in his hair and tugging the way he had liked. </p>
<p>“You owe me. I know you never liked me, but I loved him. I loved him so fucking much. And you know he loved me. And what you did… what you helped him do… you were a part of the reason we were hurt. I killed him because he was a killer. That was justice, <i>you</i> should understand that. But you owe me, because I never got any for the way you hurt me. So lead us to the way out, if you’re really a spirit of justice.” Marjana’s voice shook, harsh and low. Tears snaked down from her red-rimmed eyes. But she faced him with her shoulders thrown back, her head held high. Because she knew how the spirit thought. And she knew she was right. The spirit thought for a moment, its eyes locked on hers. Every second was sweet bliss, staring at the man she had loved more than anything. Every moment was burning agony.</p>
<p>“Very well. I will lead you out.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Hawke :*(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Chapter 46</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira and her team escape the fade</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: canon-typical violence, mild body horror, minor-character death</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira walked in a daze, following Marjana and her cousin. Solas, Varric, and Blackwall followed behind her, ready for anything that might try to sneak up behind them. Lucija walked beside her, face hardened into a deep frown. She was easy to mistake for her cousin with such a scowl across her features. Marjana herself was up ahead, trailing just behind the spirit as it led them. He ducked around corners and through passageways that Eira would have never seen had they not been pointed out to her. No wonder they had been lost. The Fade had appeared so straightforward, but it was a shifting maze. </p>
<p>For all the stories Eira had heard about Anders, the man who had blown the Kirkwall Chantry to rubble, she had not expected this. Marjana and Lucija both seemed perturbed by his cold, calculating demeanor. Eira supposed that meant the man, the real Anders, had been somehow different. She had always imagined he would be a cruel man, or a cold killer. But Lucija had lamented briefly that it was strange to see the man without a smile on his face, without a joke on his tongue. Less surprising was the fact that he was softly, sweetly handsome. The handsome ones usually managed their subterfuge best. He had a long face, all nose, and a soft brow. He was probably gorgeous when he smiled. But the spirit did not make any expression at all as it led. Marjana was completely silent, but she chewed at her lip and scowled as she followed behind the man. </p>
<p><i>Do you really think you’re any better than her? You’ve killed too. All in the name of some shemlen cause. When did you become so human, da’len?</i> Keeper Deshanna’s voice whispered inside her head. She stumbled at the intrusion. Eira broke her fall with her bare hand, scraping the heel of her hand raw. She barely noticed the pain as she stood back up, too busy spiraling into the fear that she would never see her people again. It was a thought that had itched at the back of her head before Adamant Fortress had been a name on her lips, but now it was unavoidable. Part of her wondered if it was even worth leaving the Fade. So much trouble to get out of here, and for what? A life on the run? Alone? Perhaps it would be better to lie down here and die, staring up at the Black City. Fitting, really, that history of <i>shemlen</i> sin.</p>
<p>She walked into Marjana, who pushed back at her with a low curse. She hadn’t noticed the other woman stopping. The others came to stand beside her, and they looked forward toward their end. A plain stretched before them, dotted with puddles of fetid water and rimmed with jagged cliffs. Across it, in the distance, was the telltale green rippling in the sky. They had found the rift. They could be free.</p>
<p>“You have your way out. My debt is paid,” Justice said to Marjana. She nodded, then turned away. Justice looked at her a moment longer, looking almost apologetic.</p>
<p>“He did love you, Yana. Hurting you was one of his greatest regrets.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Marjana whispered. She began walking forward, not once turning back to look at the spirit that wore her lover’s face. Justice nodded to Lucija, then disappeared into nothing. Lucija sighed, then followed after Marjana. Eira waved her team forward, and they began to cross the plain. They were silent, save for the insistent, unintelligible whispering in Eira’s head. She felt her steps quicken as they neared the green maw. It was so close. They may really be free. </p>
<p>A figure stepped forward, seeming to materialize from nothing. Eira and her companions stopped completely. The man stepped closer, his features vague and hazy. He was tall and well-built. He walked with confident steps. As he came closer, he came into focus, as if the demon was solidifying his features. His bare, muscled chest gleamed under his deep red surcote, shoulders broad under furred mantle. His face more handsome than Eira remembered. Wide jaw, high cheekbones, eyes dark under his firm brow. The curls of his blond hair slicked perfectly back along his head. His smile was a slight, predatory thing. His eyes were locked on Eira. She was frozen, helpless, as he sauntered toward her. </p>
<p>“You aren’t leaving so soon, are you darling?” Cullen purred, sliding his hand along her cheek and tilting her chin up so that she was looking into his eyes. She hated herself for melting forward into him, leaning in as he wrapped his other hand around her waist. </p>
<p>“You’re a fear demon,” Solas said, voice authoritative. It was not a question.</p>
<p>“<i>Speak, rebel. You care for nothing but victory. Your pride will be your death.</i>” Cullen said sharply, turning to Solas. It was strange hearing Elvhen words flow from his mouth so smoothly. Eira steadied her breathing, still held in the demon’s embrace.</p>
<p>"<i>Nothing is inevitable</i>," Solas answered, somehow keeping his voice cool and smooth. Cullen looked back at Eira, his eyes predatory. He traced one finger along her jaw, sending shivers down her back.</p>
<p>“You have it wrong, then. I’m not afraid of Cullen Rutherford,” Eira said, staring into his eyes. He closed the gap between them, planting a gentle kiss along her jaw. She knew she should pull away from him, but she couldn’t move. He trailed kisses up along her jaw and to her ear.</p>
<p>“I’m not your fear,” Cullen said. He flicked his tongue out against her ear, and she bit back a whimper. It was vile and horrible and alluring all at once. He pulled back until he was nose-to-nose with her. His fingers curled firmly around her chin, holding her face still. Her skin crawled at his touch. He flicked his eyes to Solas, standing beside her. “I’m his.” Eira felt her face grow red. She pushed her hands out, against Cullen’s chest, trying to move him away. But his hand was firm against her back, and she succeeded only in pressing her hands against the soft blond hair that trailed down his naked chest.</p>
<p>“Of course, I’m not sure I could ever <i>really</i> love you,” he said, turning his attention back to Eira. “You are a monster, after all. Just like the ones who tortured me.” He leaned forward and bit her neck, then sucked on the delicate skin. Eira gasped. Disgust curdled in her stomach. He murmured against her skin as he trailed kisses up her neck. “But perhaps I could see something in you, other than a mage.” His tongue found her ear again. “Of course, we would need to change some things about you, darling.” Eira shivered as he nibbled small kisses up her long earlobe, to the very tip. “The ears would be the first to go.” He bit down sharply. Eira screamed, her knees collapsing under her as his teeth sunk into and severed the cartilage of her ear. His arms did not release her body from his grip. Eira felt warm blood gushing down the whorls of her ear and over the side of her neck. Pain throbbed in the spot where the tip of her ear was bitten off. Cullen’s fingers dug into her arm and her back, trapping her body against his. </p>
<p>“Stop! Let her go!” Lucija yelled. But Eira knew they wouldn’t dare attack, not while her body was shielding him. Cullen laughed, but it was a dark, evil thing. He took his hand off her arm and reached into the pocket of his breeches. He pulled out a familiar phial, glowing seductively red.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong, love? Are you afraid?” he whispered. Cullen drew the vial up but, rather than uncorking it, he crushed it within his fist. Rivulets of bright red lyrium and dark red blood streamed down his arm. He raised his fist above his head and licked it from his pale skin in one long, sensual stroke. He released Eira, then, and she stumbled backward and to her knees. He laughed, his voice becoming a sharp, scraping thing. Crystals of red lyrium burst forth from his flesh, ripping him apart. His glowing red eyes never left Eira’s.</p>
<p>Marjana yelled, then, and swung her greatsword down in an arc toward him. He raised his own blade, a monstrous thing forged from red lyrium, to block her blow. Everyone sprung into action. Blackwall yelled as he charged forward, pushing Eira behind his shield. She watched as Lucija set glyphs around the battlefield, reigning the demon in. Cullen fought back fiercely, with an unnatural strength that let him throw Marjana and Blackwall’s bodies around. He barely stopped when Varric’s bolts crashed into his pale body, hits that would usually knock a man over. Eira watched, too stunned and confused to think of her next move. Marjana screamed as she fought, strings of curses that might have been directed at Cullen, or Anders, or herself. He overpowered Marjana, knocking her onto her back. Eira watched it in slow-motion, as he brought his red lyrium sword up over his head and down toward her bloody face. Eira moved without thinking, shooting a bolt of lightning toward him. He was knocked backward. Eira scrambled up, grabbing her staff, and entered the fight in earnest then. She hurled bolts of electricity at Cullen, barely registering the horror of seeing his body convulse. He fought savagely, tearing his sword through Marjana and Blackwall recklessly. They cut back, slicing open his skin and spilling the dark ichor of his blood. Eira summoned all her strength and rent through the air with a burst of lightning that struck down into him. His body crumbled apart, chunks of flesh falling off and disappearing into nothing. He changed his shape, flashing into his true form. A veiled figure, spidery limbs reaching out from its back, shrouded in gauzy robes. The demon fell to the ground, then melted into a puddle of black goo. </p>
<p>Silence rang through the clearing. Eira shook, though she wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or revulsion. Lucija pulled Marjana to her feet. The cousins were completely silent, looking at one another with tired eyes. Eira began walking toward the rift, sparking angrily a hundred yards away. Then, from behind them, was a great roar. She spun round and saw an enormous, hulking creature bearing down on them. It rose into the sky on spindly legs, with an arachnoid body larger than an <i>araval</i>. It had no eyes, but its mouth was filled with razor sharp teeth as large as Eira. The thing began to skitter toward them with alarming speed.</p>
<p>“Go! I’ll hold it off!” Lucija yelled, brandishing her staff. Marjana grabbed her arm.</p>
<p>“Like hell you will! I’ll take this thing myself. You’ve got more to live for,” Marjana said, stepping forward. The demon crawled nearer, close enough that Eira could smell its fetid stench.</p>
<p>“There’s no time, Yana! Take these,” she said, pulling a bundle of papers from the pouch at her side. She pressed them into Marjana’s hands and then wrapped her own hands around her cousins. “I love you, Marjana, and so does Beth. Take care of her.” Lucija dropped her hands and spun, grabbing her staff and weaving magical energy through her body.</p>
<p>“Run!” She yelled. Lucija pushed them away with a blast of force, just as the creature reared up above her. She flung her magic wildly, trying to contain its many limbs. Marjana made to turn back, but Varric grabbed her and pulled. Blackwall grabbed her other arm and tugged her, as Eira and Solas began running for the rift. The thing behind them wailed. Maybe Lucija would kill it. Maybe she would get away. Marjana was screaming, being pulled along by her friends, refusing to let her cousin die. Eira ran faster, hearing the too-human screams behind her. She was numb to the gnawing in her stomach, numb to the burning in her legs, numb to the aching of her ear. Nothing mattered but reaching the rift. Solas jumped through first. Eira slowed, waiting for the others to overtake her. Marjana had given in, it seemed, as she was now barreling forward and through the gap in reality. Blackwall followed, then Varric. Eira hung on the edge of the gateway and looked back. She couldn’t see any trace of Lucija. The thing had moved on, toward her. It jumped and dashed and reached with its barbed legs, closing the distance between them in an instant. Eira jumped through.</p>
<p>She tumbled out onto the flagstones of the parade ground at the heart of Adamant Keep. She fell onto her knees, collapsed in the cold night air. The rift hung above her, one spindly, horrible leg poking through. She yelled as she swung her hand forward, raising her palm and connecting the Anchor to the rift with one sinuous line of energy. Seconds ticked by. One. Two. Three. Eira severed the connection. The rift flashed bright, blinding her, and then winked out of existence.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Notes: Translation of the Fear Demon to Solas by FenxShiral in Project Elvhen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Chapter 47</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reunion after the Fade</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen paced the makeshift camp at the parade ground. It had been nearly four hours since the dragon had flown away, the Wardens conceded, and Erimond taken into custody of the Inquisition. Leliana was with the man now, extracting whatever information she could in ways Cullen preferred not to dwell upon. Josephine was meeting with the highest-ranking Wardens currently present, beginning the discussion first with terms regarding aid for the wounded Wardens and a temporary Inquisition occupation of the fortress. She would be busy, in the upcoming days, sending correspondence to Weisshaupt and establishing an understanding with the order at large. While Rylen feared that the recent events would lead to a conflict between the Inquisition and the Wardens once news reached the Anderfels, Cullen trusted that Josephine would have the Grey Wardens officially doing the Inquisition’s bidding. That woman could negotiate a fish out of the ocean. Cullen had given his orders, and the army had begun to set camp, sweep the Fortress, and tend the wounded. But really, the bulk of his work had come before the fight. This was a rare chance to rest, a few hours’ reprieve before his responsibilities came to besiege him again.</p><p>He hated it.</p><p>He hated that everyone was going about their lives, as if the Inquisitor hadn’t fallen to her death. He found little solace in the fact that no bodies had been found when his troops had searched the bottom of the canyon where she had fallen. Leliana had been cryptic in her reaction, saying only that between Eira and Lucija there had likely been some clever escape. Josephine had refused to engage with the conversation, instead digging herself into her negotiations. And Cullen paced, still-armored feet scratching over paving stones. He hadn’t stopped moving in the last four hours. As if he could somehow come up with an explanation, a way to convince himself that Eira and her team were alive. The rift at the parade ground pulsed softly, but no demons had come through since the first hour after the battle. He watched it from the corner of his eye, hand on his sword and scowl on his brow. The soldiers guarding the rift shifted nervously any time his gaze swept across them. In fairness, he did feel the urge to strike someone to the ground, so they weren’t wrong to regard him cautiously. </p><p>This could not be happening. </p><p>The Inquisition would be nothing without Eira. Her Anchor, of course, was an irreplaceable advantage. But it was more than that. The woman was tireless, and clever, and had somehow managed to win the hearts of so many people. Without her, their support would dwindle and collapse. They would fight and fracture apart. He would crumble into the darkness always threatening to swallow him up. Cullen’s thoughts oscillated wildly between his earnest, desperate hope that she was somehow alive to his dark, violent surety that was gone. The sounds of the camp around him were dulled by the roaring inside his head. His mouth was dry, craving that sweet, singing liquid. Just a drop, just a taste. Just enough lyrium to take the edge from his grief and his rage. His fingers trembled as he thought about it. But he wouldn’t. Not this time. She was dead, most likely, and he would never have a chance to end their fruitless fight. But he would not do her memory the disservice of falling into vice the minute she was gone. They both deserved better than that. </p><p>“Cullen, Maker’s sake, you’re making me crazy,” Cassandra complained. She sat by the command tent, cleaning her armor and weapons. </p><p>“Then go somewhere else, Cassandra,” he snapped back, turning to glare at her.</p><p>“I’m here for your own good and you know it.” Cassandra scoffed in disgust, then turned back to her polishing. Cullen hated that she was right. He sighed deeply, then went to sit beside her. He removed his armor, letting each piece fall with a clatter onto the stone below. Cassandra flinched with each crash, but said nothing.</p><p>Then, Cullen’s vision went white. An impossible flash of light illuminated the parade, accompanied by a tearing sound that rent through him. The rift had sparked to life, and shapes were materializing from the other side. The soldiers jumped to the ready, weapons bared. They crowded around the rift, and Cullen couldn’t see the demons that tumbled out. He sat, tense, waiting for the fighting to begin. But it didn’t. There was shouting, calling for him. None of the soldiers made any move to attack whatever had come out, so he decided to leave his armor where it lay. He walked over, apprehensively, until he recognized a familiar voice.</p><p>Of course it was Marjana Hawke.</p><p>She screamed, ordering to be let go as she pushed her way past the ring of soldiers.</p><p>“You!” she yelled, locking her eyes on Cullen. She ran to him, eyes furious and wild. Cullen stopped where he was, thoughts swirling in his head too quickly to process. Marjana, reaching him, shoved him with all her might. He braced himself, and she seemed only angrier that her push hadn’t moved him.</p><p>“You could have stopped her!” she wailed. Marjana beat her fists against his chest. Despite Cullen’s best efforts to block her blows, she landed more than a few. He would bruise, certainly.</p><p>“You could have told her not to go! She would have listened! How could you let her do this? Now she’s <i>gone</i>!” Marjana’s face was streaked with tears as she screamed. He hadn’t seen her this grief-stricken since the night at the Gallows when she had struck Anders down. Varric pulled her away, his usually jovial face ashy pale. He was uncharacteristically silent. Cullen reeled. Hawke had survived, and Varric, but Eira was dead? They had been in the Fade, somehow? No, he couldn’t stomach it. His gut knotted with dread. His breaths came quick and shallow. She couldn’t be dead. He needed her. <i>Oh Maker</i>, this couldn’t be happening. Marjana collapsed to the ground, loudly sobbing.</p><p>“I’m so sorry Luci. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” Her words became incoherent. Nausea twisted in Cullen’s stomach. Lucija was dead, then. Of course. There wasn’t anyone, save Varric, that Marjana would mourn as violently as her cousin. Maker, Lucija had been such a <i>good</i> person. Losing her was tragic. And it dawned on him, then. Marjana was talking about <i>Lucija</i>. The rift, while he wasn’t paying attention, was closed. <i>Eira was alive</i>.</p><p>Cullen shoved his way past the soldiers who stood, dumbfounded, in a ring around the space where the rift had been. Solas and Blackwall stared out at him, presumably watching his exchange with Hawke. And at the center of everything was Eira. She knelt with her hands on the ground. Her body was shaking. Cullen rushed forward and knelt before her. He felt tears of relief welling in his eyes, and didn’t bother to try to suppress them. Let them see him cry. The only person who mattered was Eira. He noted with alarm that the side of her face and neck were crusted with blood, though he quickly realized the wound was to her ear and not something more vital. She looked up at him, drawing her hands back and placing them in her lap. Her face was dirty, with streaks of pale skin running from her eyes downward where tears had cut through the layer of dirt. Her lip quivered as she looked at him, eyes wet and shining. </p><p>“Cullen,” she whispered. It was all he needed. He reached his arms around her and she collapsed into him. He held her against his chest, one hand behind her head and another around her back. She shook from her crying, but he could feel her trembling too, from fear or exhaustion or whatever else. What had she endured?</p><p>“Maker, Eira, I thought I lost you,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the part in her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, balling the back of his shirt in her fists and pressing her face against his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of her. There was nothing but her. Nothing but the woman in his arms. She was safe. Thank the Maker.</p><p>“Commander, Ser, should we… alert Captain Rylen?” Cullen’s eyes snapped open. He glared up at a very nervous looking soldier.</p><p>“Alert Rylen, Leliana, and Josephine at once,” he snapped. The woman jumped, and she and two other soldiers scurried away. Cullen moved to disentangle himself from the Inquisitor. He had been so relieved to see her, he had forgotten his surroundings. The reality came crashing back down around him, and he was suddenly quite embarrassed by his display of emotion.</p><p>“No, please,” Eira squeaked, clutching Cullen’s wrists as he moved to stand. He felt his face grow warm. “I’m sorry I… don’t leave me.” Cullen stared at her for a moment, now all too aware of the many faces that watched them.</p><p>“Here,” he said, pulling Eira into his arms and lifting her. She was such a slight thing. “Let’s have you checked by the healers.” Eira wrapped her hands around his neck as he held her to his chest and carried her in his arms, as he had so long ago outside of Haven. </p><p>The healers checked Eira as thoroughly as possible given that she sat curled up on Cullen’s lap and refused to be separated from him. She declined to speak, unless asked a direct question. Her injuries were minor, though the healers noted weakness caused by days of starvation. She was quickly brought a bowl of hot, thin soup, which she drank quickly, and then allowed to leave. Seeing as she was unwilling to leave him, Cullen walked with her back to his tent, arm around her shoulders to support her. He sat on the edge of his bed and motioned for her to take a seat at the desk across from him. She wavered, then sat next to him instead. It felt right, to wrap his arms around her as she curled into him. He smoothed his hands along her ruined braids, then began unwinding them. His mother had always tended Mia and Rosalie’s hair when they were upset, so perhaps it would help. Eira said nothing as he teased the locks of her hair from where they were wound together.</p><p>“Have you not been eating? Was it just nerves leading up to the siege?” Cullen asked, confused. Days without food did explain her sunken-eyed look. Though he didn’t remember her looking so pale and sallow before the battle. Then again, he had been avoiding looking at her much at all.</p><p>“No food in the Fade,” Eira murmured.</p><p>“Yes, but you’ve only been there a few hours.”</p><p>“Hm? No, that’s not right. It’s been days. Maybe three or four, hard to tell.” Cullen smoothed the dark curls that now lay free along her shoulders.</p><p>“Maker. Is time different there?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I thought…” Eira let out a sob. “I thought you would all be gone when we made it out. I didn’t think you’d stay.” She started to cry in earnest, and Cullen pulled her close against his chest. </p><p>“Never, Eira. Never.” </p><p>“And after I’ve been so horrible to you. I never meant for any of that to happen.” Eira’s words were difficult to understand, her voice wet and bursting out between sobs. “I’ve lost my clan and I’ve lost you and it’s only a matter of time before I lose Josephine and my other friends and I--”</p><p>“Eira,” Cullen cut her off. She swallowed her increasingly frantic words. “I’m right here. It will take more than one fight to drive me away. Now you need to rest.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks, thumbs tracing the green <i>vallaslin</i> under her eyes. She hiccuped, the worst of her sobs soothed by his words. There would be time to talk later, to review their hurts and tally their injuries against each other. They could decide later if they were still angry. For now, Cullen was content to hold her, to know that Eira was safe. Her breathing slowed as he held her, stroking her hair silently.</p><p>“I’ll just stay a little longer?” she murmured, her breath warm against his neck as she leaned against him.</p><p>“Of course.” He felt calm, peaceful even, sitting in the early morning hours with her. He brushed the pads of his fingers along her shoulders absently as they drifted off into the sweet embrace of sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Chapter 48</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira and the Inquisition begin to move forward after the fall of Adamant</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira woke as she felt her body shifted gently. The first thing she noticed was the bright light around her, morning sun illuminating the canvas tent. The next thing she noticed was the camp bed she lay in, a sure indication that the previous day hadn’t been a dream, that she was truly back in the real world. The third thing she noticed, remembering the night before, was the man standing in the middle of the tent, his back to her, shrugging out of his shirt. Eira looked away quickly, heat blooming in her cheeks. She was still dressed in her filthy, ruined clothes, the ones that had seen her through a battle and days wandering the Fade. Her whole body ached, protesting its many injuries as well as the night spent sleeping at an impossible angle. </p><p>She hadn’t meant to stay in Cullen’s tent. Honestly, she hadn’t meant much of anything. She had been so overwhelmed with exhaustion and grief and fear that all she could think to do was to literally cling to the nearest safe thing. Which, apparently, had been Cullen. She groaned softly, remembering the way she had refused to let go of him and had sobbed nonsense. She had humiliated herself. </p><p>“Eira? Are you awake?” Cullen asked. She turned to him as he spoke. He was in new breeches now, and pulled a fresh shirt over his head. She wished she could grow smaller as he looked at her, acutely aware of her filthy appearance, ridiculous behavior, and the fact that she was lying in his bed after a night of sleeping next to him. He seemed to be thinking the same, as his pale cheeks flared pink. Eira sat up. Her sore muscles protested, and her stomach growled audibly.</p><p>“I must have fallen asleep. You, ah, could have woken me. <i>ir abelas</i>, Cullen,” she murmured. Eira nervously smoothed her hair, wild from sleep, trying to bring it under control. Each stroke of her hand, rather than helping her feel in control, only heightened the growing unease inside her. She knew, in her mind, that the danger was past. But her body was coiled, tense, waiting for the fight it had come to expect.</p><p>“We were both exhausted. I’m glad you were able to rest,” Cullen said, looking down at the ground as he rubbed the back of his neck. How had it been so easy to wrap herself around him the night before? The air now was so suffused with embarrassment and anxiety that it was barely palatable. </p><p>“Cullen, have you seen the Inquisitor? The last anyone can tell me is that you helped her from the healers’ tent. There is much we must review today, and--” Josephine said, letting herself into the tent. She stopped as her eyes fell on Eira, laying on Cullen’s bed. She squeaked in surprise, then rushed forward and gathered Eira in a tight hug. She wrinkled her nose as she pulled away.</p><p>“Forgive me, Eira, but you smell awful.”</p><p>“I missed you too, Josie.” Eira’s voice was small, wavering. Josephine’s smile faded as she turned to Cullen, whose face had gone from pink to a deep red.</p><p>“If you’ll excuse us, Commander, it seems Eira will be in need of a bath and a change of clothes before we can begin our briefing in the command pavilion and the negotiations with the Wardens. And perhaps a visit with the healers. I <i>thought</i> you had taken her to them, but--” Josephine’s hand hovered by Eira’s ear.</p><p>“They weren’t able to do anything for the ear, Josephine, and the rest of her injuries were minor,” Cullen snapped. Eira reached up to feel her right ear, which now was truncated and short. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the tooth marks along the raw edge. She flinched at the memory as it sent pain shooting through her. No, it wasn’t the memory. Eira realized she was scraping her nails along the wound, cutting into the raw flesh. She jerked her hand away, seeing the thin film of red blood that coated her fingertips.</p><p>“Well then. Eira, I apologize to move you along so quickly after your battle, but there is much left to be done. The Grey Wardens have little in the way of official leadership left, but they have agreed to let us speak with the more senior Wardens present before any messages are sent to Weisshaupt.” Josephine’s smile returned as she helped Eira to her feet. She looked to Cullen, unsure of what to say. Her mind was racing with a thousand images, but not a single word to tell him.</p><p>“We can speak later, Inquisitor,” he said, his eyes bouncing back and forth between hers. She nodded back as she was all but pulled from the tent by Josephine. The warm air of the approach was a welcome change from the Fade’s damp chill, and the bright, rising sun seared into her eyes.</p><p>“I see you and the Commander have gotten past your quarrel,” she said, eyeing Eira.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to fall asleep there Josephine,” Eira snapped. She had little patience to argue niceties with Josephine.</p><p>“It <i>would</i> have been preferable if you hadn’t. You fighting with the Commander caused a great deal of unrest among the troops. The news of you two sleeping together will only exacerbate that.”</p><p>“What? We <i>aren’t</i>... Can you give me a gods damned minute without constant scrutiny?” Eira’s head swam as she struggled to focus. Josephine looked taken aback at the outburst, but didn’t break her stride. She sniffed slightly, and kept her eyes forward as the two walked through the camp. Eira felt guilt bubble up inside her, an accompaniment to the shame she still felt for fighting with Cullen in the first place.</p><p>“Josie, all that happened was that I didn’t want to be alone. I was so… after everything… we were lost in the Fade for days, Josie… and then Lucija…” Eira trailed off, staring at the ground. Her voice was heavy with grief. “I didn’t want to be alone, so he stayed with me. That’s all.”</p><p>“I should not have presumed. I apologize,” Josephine said, softly. She placed a hand on Eira’s shoulder as they walked.</p><p>True to her word, Josephine pulled Eira toward a tent that must have been meant for her, emblazoned as it was with the Inquisition’s eye. She summoned food that Eira ate voraciously as more servants laid out a tub and water. Eira waved them away and heated the water herself, then stripped her soiled clothing and lowered herself in. She scrubbed with a bar of flowery soap as Josephine talked, barely noticing the long scratches her fingernails left on her pale skin. Josephine reviewed the current state of things following the battle. Eira half listened, suddenly sleepy again with her stomach full and her body floating in the warm water. Josephine snapped at her, though, and she endeavored to focus. A new set of clothing was pulled from a chest at the foot of her bed, and she dressed quickly. </p><p>Josephine pulled her along, not giving her time to braid her hair. She followed, feet numb and heart hollow. She retreated in, concentrating on anything but the barrage of too-sharp sensations around her. They entered a large pavilion, where the others were gathered around a map-strewn table. Cullen’s eyes never left her as she shuffled in. Leliana was exchanging words with a sour-faced Marjana, but fell silent as Eira approached. Cassandra wore her familiar frown. Josephine exchanged pleasantries with the others briefly, but Eira found herself unable to focus. She traced her fingers over the map’s lines, lingering over the Free Marches in front of her. So much was wrapped up in that place, in the northern plains where clan Lavellan hunted and traded without her, in the city of Kirkwall where her Commander had cut his teeth. She was pulled from her thoughts as Cullen reached out and grabbed her hand from where he stood across the table.</p><p>“Eira.” Her head jerked up, and she realized everyone was looking at her, waiting. “Would you tell us what happened after you fell?” His voice was gentle, the way he reserved for private moments. She nodded, and he let go. She wanted to reach out and grab him, to fold herself into his arms, to feel something solid around her as she recounted her tale of horror. But she didn’t. She would be strong. </p><p>She told them of their falling into the Fade. She told them of their trek, their cold, their starvation. Her voice hitched and wavered when she reviewed the demon’s taunting, its recitations of their deepest fears. She didn’t tell what it said, didn’t say whose voices it had taken. Marjana’s face was sour as she paced the pavilion, chewing her fingernails and refusing to look at anyone. Eira talked of the memory they had found, the images of the Grey Wardens and Corypheus killing the Divine. Cassandra growled a low curse. She stopped, and that was a mistake. It had been tumbling out of her, each word an autumn leaf pulled from the branch in a rainstorm. But once she stopped there was nothing. Suddenly there were no words. But she had to continue. She drew a ragged breath, her face growing red as she fought back tears. She told them of summoning Justice, how the spirit had worn Anders’s face. She screamed at the sudden sound of Marjana breaking a teacup, hurling it against the table and shattering the porcelain. She gasped for breath again and the tears fell, warm and wet, from her closed eyes. It was all shame and grief, and she wished for a moment she were back in the Fade, that place of nothing and mist, where she could wrap herself into a ball and sleep and forget.</p><p>“That’s enough,” Cullen said. He glared at Marjana, who leaned her fists against the table and bowed her head. Blood trickled from her palm as she clutched the ruined porcelain shards. “Eira, we can continue later. You should rest, you’ve been through much.” Eira stared at the white-and-blue pieces littered across the map, jagged teeth that bit across the Dales.</p><p>“No. I need to finish it,” she whispered. She wiped the back of her arm across her face, smearing her sleeve with tears and snot. She told them of Anders’s form, leading them out through the twists and turns of the Fade. Then, the final confrontation. The appearance of the fear demon. She tried to find a place to start that story, but all she came up with were great, gasping sobs. The others stared silently as she shook.</p><p>“It was you,” Marjana said, looking up at Cullen. Her voice was flat and hard. “The demon. It took your form, Rutherford. You- it- was half naked. It held her, kissed her neck, bit off her ear. Then it juiced up on red lyrium, transformed into some horrible Templar thing, and fought us.” Eira risked a glance at Cullen. His eyes were wide, mouth agape, face glaring red. Eira felt raw, naked before them. She had done Marjana the decency of keeping her fears unspoken. Couldn’t she let Eira have her dignity?</p><p>“We thought we killed it, but then it was some huge monster and we didn’t stand a chance. We ran. Luci stayed to fight it off, to give us a chance to get away. And that’s it,” Marjana said. She opened her fists, smearing the blood from her hands across <i>Dirthavaren</i>. Then she turned and stalked off, expression furious. The tent was silent, save for Eira’s gasps and sniffs as she tried to get her crying under control. Josephine capped her inkpot and turned to the others, somehow all poise amidst the pain that suffused the air. </p><p>“Leliana, please ensure the Wardens do not send any messages that we are unaware of. And Serrah Hawke and Varric, they should not be allowed to contact Wardens Hawke and Howe or King Theirin until we have the narrative under control. Cassandra, perhaps it is best if you accompany the Marchers and ensure that Serrah Hawke’s... unpredictability does not cause any difficulties for us. I will meet with the Warden-Constable and request a delay in our treating, as the Inquisitor has not yet recovered from her ordeals. The information she recovered regarding the Warden involvement at the Conclave should ensure they agree. Commander, please escort the Inquisitor to her tent. I will see to it that she is not disturbed today.” Josephine’s voice was pointed, matter-of-fact, as she gave her orders. Leliana slipped from the tent, and Cassandra left with a huff. Josephine squeezed Eira’s hand before she, too, left. Cullen shifted his weight between his feet and adjusted his surcote nervously. Eira let out a shuddering breath, then straightened herself as best she could, her shoulders back and her eyes puffy and red. He walked to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder, looking at her intently, before leaving the tent with Eira following behind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're so close to 100k!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Chapter 49</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Livius Erimond is judged for his crimes</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Inquisitor Lavellan,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I am sorry I knew you only a short time. I think, had we more time together, we may have been good friends. I see in you a brightness and a drive. I trust that you will do good for the world, though I regret that this has fallen to you. The mistakes and missteps of the order I once led have been laid bare in the past year. You would not be wrong to believe that I should have been the one to correct them. Perhaps we do not deserve your forgiveness, but I shall ask for leniency from your Inquisition. The Grey Wardens are still a force for good in Thedas, I must believe. I pray that you will preserve that. They will help you, I think, in correcting the matter of Corypheus. Leverage your influence over Warden-Commander Howe if you experience resistance. He is not usually an emotional man, but I believe him sentimental enough that your friendship with me will gain you favor. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Good luck to you in your endeavors going forward. Though I do not know Josephine, she seems a fine woman. Leliana has proven herself to be capable and cunning, and has been a very dear friend to me in my years. Cullen has always been a hardworking and principled man, and his loyalty is unquestionable. You have a fine team, and your Inquisition will achieve great things.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I wish you the best of luck.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Former Warden-Commander Lucija Amell</i>
</p><p>____________________________________</p><p>Eira had been withdrawn and quiet over the two weeks’ return to Skyhold. She had accompanied Josephine on her negotiations with the Grey Wardens during the days at Adamant before their departure, though each particular interaction was lost in a foggy haze. Cassandra had been livid, pushing for some sort of punishment for the Wardens’ actions. But Eira couldn’t banish them. If nothing else, practicality couldn’t abide throwing away such a valuable resource. That’s what she told Cassandra, anyway, as she met with Josephine and the Wardens to create a pact for their aid. Josephine did the real work, with Eira mostly nodding numbly and trying to look imperious. The steely expression she plastered on her face probably helped with that.</p><p>She swore she was seeing Lucija out of the corners of her vision, only to turn and find another Warden mage standing at attention. That woman hadn’t deserved to die. Eira tried to convince herself that it wasn’t her fault. She had tried to stop the Wardens from what they were doing. It wasn’t by her fault that they had ended up in the Fade, not really. It hadn’t been her decision to leave Lucija behind. After all, the woman had been dying anyway. That’s what she had written in her letter to Marjana, apparently.</p><p>Eira’s was the shortest of the letters she had pressed into Marjana’s hands before resigning herself to her death. The longest was the one to her lover Alistair. She had written so many, one to Marjana, Anora, Bethany, Leliana, Nathaniel Howe, and even Cullen. Marjana had read her letter over and over, reacting to each line as if her cousin were there to hear her scoff, laugh, and curse.</p><p>Eira often sat with Marjana in the evenings as the Inquisition wound its way back to its hold. They talked little. Eira noted Marjana’s fingers were raw and shredded, cuticles pulled and torn until her nails were rimmed with dark scabs. Her face looked bare without the red streak across her nose. Her brown skin was sallow and her hair was knotted and ragged. Eira supposed she didn’t look much better. She had little care for her appearance, and had let her hair fall in greasy strings until Josephine tutted and insisted that if Eira didn’t wash her hair she was going to do it for her. Cullen was persistently present, despite the fact that Eira talked very little and Marjana often barbed him with venomous insults. He brought Eira meals in silence, waiting while she picked at her food listlessly. She knew he wouldn’t leave until she ate, so she swallowed a few bites to appease him despite her lack of appetite. </p><p>Eira was determined to retreat to her quarters once they arrived at Skyhold, but Josephine kept her busy with meetings and trainings. She suspected this was on purpose, and supposed she should feel grateful for her friend’s help, but she was so hollow it was hard to care. She woke screaming at night, her nightmares now featuring her experiences in the Fade and visions of Lucija’s death, each more bloody than the last. The aches and injuries faded from her skin, but she still felt the dread of her experiences heavy on her bones.</p><p>A week passed. Josephine called Eira and her advisors to meet in the war room. Eira stared across the table, not managing to smile as she met Cullen’s eyes. Josephine spoke of an upcoming ball at the Winter Palace in Orlais. She and Leliana had enough cause to believe that it would be the site of Empress Celene’s assassination, and so they were planning for an Inquisition presence. They would need an invitation, of course, and once there they would need to find a way to stop the assassination. Eira wasn’t entirely sure why they were doing this. She stared at her fingers, drumming on the war table, as she half-listened to her advisors planning. The invitation was the first hurdle to jump. Eventually, Josephine and Leliana figured a plan to send Eira’s team to the Exalted Plains to quiet the warring between Celene and her cousin Gaspard. Eira finally snapped after Cullen tried to get her attention, to ask her opinion on the plan.</p><p>“I don’t care about these <i>shemlen</i> nobles. I trust you when you say it’s important, so I’ll do it. But for the love of <i>Egar’nan</i>, it’s <i>Halamshiral</i> and <i>Dirthavaren</i>.” Eira’s jaw was set firm, her voice quick and sharp. “You say this is my Inquisition? Stop pretending I’m not an elf.” Eira stared at each of them, venom in her eyes. </p><p>“Y-yes, Inquisitor. I apologize for our insensitivity. Notice shall be given immediately to members of the Inquisition,” Josephine said. She shrank back slightly, though she managed to keep her expression neutral. Eira turned and made to leave the room.</p><p>“There is one more thing, Inquisitor,” Josephine called out, stopping Eira in her tracks. She didn’t turn to look. “Livius Erimond has been sent to us for judgment.” Eira’s shoulders tensed, like a cat facing a threat. She turned to stare at the ambassador, mouth creased into a frown. “We have him in custody in the dungeons. We can begin the proceedings once you are prepa--”</p><p>“Now,” Eira said, cutting Josephine off. Her advisors were silent, looking to one another with worry.</p><p>“Eira, are you sure? There is time, no one will resent if Erimond spends a few days behind bars before receiving his sentence,” Cullen said.</p><p>“I said <i>now</i>, Commander.” Eira turned and stomped from the room. Her blood was boiling. She was too angry to pinpoint what was wrong, too angry to care. All she could think about was sitting on her throne, attended by the masses of <i>shem</i> followers. They looked up at her as she settled onto the golden sunburst throne. Perched, really. Her fingers tapped along the arms of the throne anxiously, all her pent-up energy begging to escape. The people watched her with a mix of awe and suspicion. Perhaps fear. Good. They should fear her. If all these people were determined to make her into their dark thrall, she would have to oblige them. Cullen came to stand beside her throne. She tried not to look at him. She couldn’t afford the softness it made her feel, the hurt, the sadness. Leliana disappeared off to the library tower. Eira suspected she had been giving orders, as the crowd in the great hall grew. Their voices buzzed expectantly. Whether they were excited, angry, or anxious, Eira couldn’t tell and didn’t care.</p><p>Eira stood up suddenly as Josephine emerged from a side door, Livius Erimond in tow. He was shackled, but still wore a smug, slick grin. Eira felt her skin crawl. It made her want to itch, to scream, to dig her nails into his flesh and drag the skin from his bones. She began to pace, restless, like a caged predator. Josephine walked forward, with Erimond tugged along behind her by two Inquisition guards.</p><p>“Your Worship, I submit Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, who remains loyal to Corypheus. We found him alive, offering extreme resistance, likely because the Order will ask for his head. In more colorful terms.” Erimond sneered up at Eira, and it was all she could do to stop herself from pouncing on him. “To say nothing of justice you might personally require for what was suffered in the Fade.” Josephine caught Eira’s gaze, then.</p><p>“The things you have done are deplorable. My only struggle will be in finding a judgment fit for your crimes.” Eira stared down at him from her raised dais, eyes burning with hatred.</p><p>“I recognize none of this proceeding. You have no authority to judge me,” Erimon said, staring back with a haughty sneer.</p><p>“On the contrary, many officials have communicated that they--” Josephine began</p><p>“No authority?” Eira roared. “I have every authority, Livius. I <i>am</i> the ruler of this place. You bow and scrape and kiss the feet of your false god, but it is <i>me</i> you should fear!”</p><p>“Tevinter is the rightful ruler of every piece of ground you’ve trod in your pathetic life.” Erimond laughed, enjoying Eira’s anger.</p><p>“And yet your life is in <i>my</i> hands! I can lock you up for the rest of your life, let you rot in the dungeons and never see the sun again. I can cut you apart, flay you alive, make you feel the skin being pulled from your fingers. I can kill you a thousand agonizing ways and no one will stop me because I <i>own you</i>. I am the only power to which you answer now!” Eira’s voice rang through the hall. The onlookers shifted nervously at the ferocity in her tone, the raw aggression in her words.</p><p>“I served a living god. Bring down your blades and free me from the physical. Glory awaits me.” He smirked at Eira, his eyes never leaving her. Eira’s face flushed red with anger. She took deep, harsh breaths, trying to control herself, to stop herself from jumping forward and strangling the man. All that she had suffered, the culprit stood before her. Perhaps it was unfair, to assign him credit for her ordeals. But all she could think was that he was at the heart of it all. The loss of her home, her clan, her control of her entire life. He had made her into this monster, with all the things he and his ilk had brought down upon her. She was so tired. Tired of being temperate, tired of denying herself. We would treat her as a beast for slaughter, and she would fight back like one.</p><p>“You will have no glory, and you won’t be allowed the luxury of rotting away with your pride. I will make you suffer as you never have, Erimond. I will strip your life of everything you love, as you have done with mine! I sentence you to Tranquility.” The room immediately buzzed as the people began to talk amongst themselves. Erimond’s face twisted into fear.</p><p>“You… you cannot! I am a lord, you pissants! I will not lose myself!”</p><p>“You already have! You and your so-called god took everything from me, but I’ve been built back up into something you could never dream. I <i>am</i> the authority here, and I am not to be crossed! You will serve as an example of what happens to those who displease me! I am finished with mercy.”</p><p>“Inquisitor, are… you sure? This may not be the wisest course of action,” Cullen said softly beside her. His mouth hung open in surprise.</p><p>“You will follow my orders, Commander, unless you forget that you work for <i>my</i>Inquisition,” she snarled to him.</p><p>“I will not make a man Tranquil,” Cullen said, quietly but firmly.</p><p>“I will wield the brand myself if I have to!” Eira snapped, glaring at him. Erimond was dragged back toward the dungeons, screaming and struggling, as the people watched, looks of horror on their faces. Eira felt her blood rushing in her ears, white hot fury in her veins. She descended the dais in a huff, and the crowd immediately parted as she stormed down the hall and out to the alure surrounding the castle. She was <i>right</i> to do what she did. He was a monster, and he had used his powers to perpetuate so much death and horror. She was right, <i>damnit</i>! But still her anger burned inside her, and her hurt and fear sat underneath it like a tender bruise. She should feel <i>better</i>. Instead, she just felt the sour dregs of disgust churning in her gut. Eira gripped the stone parapets and looked out over the jagged, snowy landscape around her. All of her was coiled, tense, threatening to shatter. She opened her mouth and let out a scream. It echoed through the hills, until it faded to nothing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We did it! 100k words! Thanks to everyone who's reading, for the kudos, and for the comments :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Chapter 50</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letters from Dirthavaren</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Commander Cullen,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cassandra, Cole, Dorian, and I have reached Dirthavaren. The trip was uneventful, even if Dorian couldn’t stop talking. He finds it so funny to push Cassandra and me. I’ve gone to bed with a headache every night. We’ve made contact with forces fighting on behalf of Gaspard de Chalons and those fighting for Empress Celene, the great fucking prats that they all are. We’ve identified a great deal of rift and demon activity, and we’ll be focusing our energy there. At least there’s something productive we can do. This had <span class="u">better</span> ingratiate us to whoever is giving out invitations to that stupid ball, or I’m going to pray that Elgar’nan does something vile to them all. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I know that Josephine said not to interfere in the war, and I won’t. But I wish I could. These people are wasting lives in their squabble for the throne, Cullen. It’s shameful. They’re killing each other and tearing apart my homelands and I can’t do anything to stop them. It makes me so angry I can’t think straight. And to think, I’m going to have to grovel at their feet at this ball. I honestly can’t bring myself to care if the empress lives or dies, but I know it’s what Corypheus wants so I should stop it. I’m just so, so angry. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I thought it would help, being back in Dirthavaren. But I have never felt so alone. We ran into a Dalish clan, one I’ve met once or twice in my youth. Keeper Hawen didn’t recognize me, clearly. He treated me like a shem. He may as well have stabbed a knife into my gut and twisted it. I had to prove myself to him, like I wasn’t anything. I was a First, and to a well-known Keeper. I was <span class="u">someone</span> to my people, and now I’m just another shemlen. Not that the shem see it that way, of course. I’ll never be enough for them either. And on top of it all, I have to watch the places I used to live as a child being torn apart in this stupid Orlesian war. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Do you know what Dirthavaren means? The Promise. It was said that Andraste promised us these lands herself, thanks to Shartan for his role in the uprising. They called it Exalted after they stripped us of it. What irony. Now it’s just a reminder of everything my people lost, and everything I lost.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We begin tomorrow with closing the rifts. After that, we will need to kill the demons that have ravaged the land, and put down the corpses that the spirits have been possessing. It will be grim work.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>_________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I am worried about you. I know I argued against you leaving for <strike>Dirthen</strike> <strike>Dithaven</strike> Dirthavaren so quickly, and I know you insisted on leaving. I still think it is too soon. You’ve experienced a great deal of pain, and you haven’t had any time to recover. You haven’t been yourself. It’s not like you to be so withdrawn, you barely spoke to anyone the weeks before you left. And what you did to Erimond was not like you either. Which is not saying that he didn’t deserve any punishment, just that you’ve never been such a severe woman. <strike>I am so worried that you will</strike> I fear you are becoming hardened by all of this. I won’t lecture you on the horrors of Tranquility. I respect your decision. I just… Maker, I thought I wouldn’t be part of that rite again. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira, frankly, I don’t want you to waste the next ten years of your life. Perhaps I am the last person who should be giving you this advice. I did everything wrong after Kinloch. I used the drugs to dull everything, and the Templars to get my revenge on the people who hurt me. Meredith used my anger and twisted me into a tool she could wield against the mages, and I let her. Please, Eira, don’t become that. I know you are angry. But don’t become vengeful like I did. Tell me, did it help, to order Erimond Tranquil? Or do you feel just as awful now? You know how much we need you in all of this, how much the world needs you, <strike>how much I</strike>. But more than that, you deserve happiness. It’s not about what we need, it’s about what <span class="u">you</span> need. Eira, I will do anything I can to help you.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>After Kinloch, I never told anyone what happened. I thought I could bury it inside myself and pretend it never happened, and that would somehow fix everything. It ate away at me. I’ve spent a decade with unending nightmares and memories. The day we fought at Skyhold, that was the first time I ever talked about what happened to me. It was like having a weight taken off my shoulders, one I had forgotten was there. I would not presume to be the person you will share with, but please know that we are all willing to listen.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I must admit my curiosity regarding what you saw, if you are willing to tell me.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Thank you, Eira, for all you have done.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cullen</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>__________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cullen,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Where do I begin? Perhaps with the dreams. You’ve been in my nightmares. <strike>That sounds so</strike> It’s not just you, I mean. The nightmares started after Haven, but they’ve been worse and worse the longer this all goes on. The ones you were in, they <strike>usually started with you ki</strike> Anyway, they usually ended with you taking red lyrium. And hurting me. I’ve seen your hands wrapped around my throat and your sword cutting into my belly over and over. It’s been so bad since the Fade. Seeing you attack me in a dream, it was unsettling. But feeling you hurt me, even if I knew it was the demon, that was a new sort of terrifying. I try to stay up all night because I don’t want to see it all happen over and over. Or I wake up soaked in sweat and crying. I hate it.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>But you wanted to know about <span class="u">you</span> in the Fade. It was like the time the envy demon at Therinfal took all your faces, the demon that confronted us as we left. It looked just like you, sounded like you too. You <strike>didn’t have a shirt</strike> were partially unclothed. And… There is no way to say that won’t be awkward. Forgive me. You kissed me. Very <strike>sexua</strike> suggestively. I said I wasn’t afraid and you said you were Solas’s fear. Then you… Mythal’s mercy, this is hard to write. You told me you would never <strike>lo</strike> accept me, that an elf could never fit into the Inquisition. You whispered it to me while you were... kissing my neck. Then that’s when you bit off my ear. Like it was just some way of making me closer to human. You laughed. Then you drank the red lyrium and turned into a monstrosity, and we had to kill you. I had to watch you convulse and burn and bleed. I guess that's why I was so happy to see you after, whole and alive.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The worst part is that that demon was right, in a way. I don’t know what this is turning me into. I’ve never been away from my people for this long. It’s like I’m still walking through the Fade, like it’s not real. Or like I’m just drunk and I can’t shake it off. Either I’m completely numb or I’m raving mad and too furious to think straight. It doesn’t feel like I belong anywhere, and that scares me worse than anything. I should have died a hundred times over by now. But I happened on something I never should have and got this Anchor on my hand and now every shem is worshipping me like they have any idea who I am. But the second they’re done with me I’ll be worse than useless. If they all find out what really happened, I’d bet money your Chantry would string me up as a heretic and a false prophet. And there's no Dalish clan that will ever take me in again, not after all of this. I would be a danger to them. The clans survive by avoiding attention from the shem, and I would bring it to them in heaps. Deshanna won't even write to me. I’m so tired of pretending and being afraid and feeling like no one can see me past this damned mark on my hand. I can’t sleep and I can’t think straight and there’s noone I can trust. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I don’t want to be responsible for all this. I don’t want to be in charge of the Inquisition. I don’t want to decide what happens to the Wardens or the mages or the Templars or fucking Orlais. I don’t want to be responsible for Lucija dying. It should have been her, with the magic hand. She seemed like the kind of person who could have handled all this. It should have been her.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>But none of that fucking matters. All this shit won’t just stop because I’m sad. I’m going to do what I have to because, for some reason only Falon’din can understand, I’m in the middle of it all. I’ll have time to cry and pout when Corypheus is dead. Isn’t that what everyone wants from me anyway?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>____________________________________</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Eira,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I do not believe you should ignore your feelings until Corypheus is dead. Even if it were possible and even if it were useful, it’s less than you deserve. Of course you are our Inquisitor, Eira, but you are a friend to so many as well. You should know that Hawke and Varric talk about you. In fact, Hawke comes to ask me every other day if I’ve heard from you. <strike>Consider writing her, please, since I am not eager for her company</strike> Trust me, that woman does not care about many people, but she clearly does for you. Josephine’s been beside herself that you haven’t written her, though she won’t say as much. I’m fairly certain she is planning to order every food you’ve ever expressed a liking for to be at Skyhold when you return. And I care for you. When I thought you were lost after Adamant, I… </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Please know that I will never allow the Chantry or anyone else to harm you.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>In any case, what I mean to express is that you are not as alone as you fear. Perhaps I cannot relate to what you have lost. Maker willing, I will never find myself ostracized from my home. But I can relate to the feeling of losing the place where you belong. I started Templar training at thirteen. The Order was my entire life for over fifteen years. Even now that I’ve left the constant lyrium cravings won’t let me forget. I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, that it stops hurting. All I can say for sure is that you do not need to grieve alone.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>As for Lucija, she was a truly amazing woman. The sort of person you meet once in a lifetime. She was incredibly smart and apparently quite an accomplished mage given her age. She was kind and funny and so subtly persuasive. It was never surprising to me that she accomplished so much in her life. I will always remember my time with her fondly, even though it was long ago. I say with confidence that if Lucija had picked up the Anchor, she would have led the Inquisition quite admirably. And I need you to know, Eira, that you are <span class="u">every bit her equal</span>. Luci was the sort of woman one meets once in a lifetime, and yet I’ve now met two. It was undoubtedly a cruel twist of fate that you ended up in the position you are now, but I am thankful that it has meant I have met you.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We are anticipating your return soon.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cullen</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. Chapter 51</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Inner Circle take a break from the doom and gloom to play a game of Wicked Grace</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: we're drinking to cope with our feelings in this chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira stood before the mirror, trying desperately to care that her hair was wild and her clothes disheveled. Varric has sent her a summons-- well, an invitation-- to a game of Wicked Grace earlier that day. Her first instinct had been to tear up his message and throw the scraps into the fire. But the dwarf was an infuriatingly persistent man. Eira figured if she didn’t show it would somehow end up worse for her. She had returned from Dirthavaren days ago, and had done her best to avoid speaking with anyone since. But she knew it couldn’t last.</p><p>She reached over to the bottle of apple brandy she had requisitioned from a concerned Josephine. She poured a small amount into a glass and shot it back. It was sweet, but the kick of the alcohol burned her throat. But at least she wasn’t drinking it from the bottle. <i>That</i> would be a mark of abuse. She was completely in control. </p><p>She straightened and pulled until she was convinced she looked adequate. She sighed, examining her reflection. The dark circles under her eyes and the exaggeration of her bones under her skin betrayed her inability to eat or sleep properly, in stark contrast to the spray of freckles that had multiplied across her skin during her time in the Western Approach. And of course, the tip of her right ear was violently truncated. The wound would have healed by now, if Eira didn’t find herself compulsively picking the scabs off. She knew she shouldn’t, that she risked infection and that it only prolonged the pain. But it was something to do. Something to hate. Something to focus on. She wanted to believe it was merely an act of violence. But it was no mistake that the demon had taken Cullen’s face as it mutilated the evidence of her elven blood. Was she afraid that the Inquisition would ultimately reject her because of what she was, or that Cullen would?</p><p>Eira’s face twisted into the familiar scowl she had been using to scare away anyone who wanted to speak with her in the past days. She poured another dram of brandy and drank it back. She had always held alcohol well, for her small size. If she was going to spend the night playing cards in a room of people who had seen her skin peeled back to show her naked hurt and fear, she would at least do it drunk. After a moment’s hesitation she grabbed the bottle from the table, then left.</p><p>Varric called out cheerfully as Eira walked into the upper room of the Herald’s Rest, which he had reserved for them apparently. It seemed she was the last to arrive. Dorian and the Iron Bull sat beside one another, as did Blackwall and Josephine. Varric was flanked by Cassandra and Marjana, who was draining the mug of whatever she was drinking. The fact that Cullen was seated next to her was even more surprising than the fact that he was present at all. He wasn’t usually the type to join in the merriment. Or at least, he never had any of the times Varric had invited him along to drink with them at the tavern.</p><p>Eira took a seat beside Josephine, who smirked as she began to deal the cards. She and Varric reviewed the rules, arguing viciously over the finer details. Apparently, Antivans played the game a bit differently than the Free Marchers, and each insisted that their version was superior. Marjana joined in to defend Varric, and from the slurring of her words she was already drunk. Eira raised her bottle of brandy to her lips and swallowed another gulp. Dorian tried to join the argument, only to be shushed by everyone at the table. He feigned offense so well, but gave Eira a wink as he did. Despite her determination to feel sullen, she couldn’t help but smile. Blackwall spoke up to defend Antivan rules, leading to hurt shouts from Marjana and Varric about “betrayal” from the “traitor”. Eira hadn’t realized the Warden wasn’t Ferelden. She passed him her bottle of apple brandy, and he gave her an appreciative nod as he poured. Eira passed the bottle across the table next, interrupting the argument to pour brandy into Marjana’s now-empty mug. Varric produced glasses for himself and for Eira, and they were filled. He cleared his throat, and the bickering at the table ceased.</p><p>“My friends. I thank you for joining me tonight for a rousing game of luck and guile. I want you to know that I am deeply thankful to know each and every one of you beautiful bastards. We’ve been through a lot in the past weeks, and it’s easy to forget about the good stuff,” he looked at Eira as he raised his glass, “but tonight, we celebrate our friends, old and new. And what better way to do that than by losing all your money to the only dwarf to ever see the Fade?” Varric laughed at his own joke, then brought his glass to his lips. Blackwall, Marjana, and Eira followed his lead. Eira felt her head swirling already with the strength of the booze. The game began in earnest, then, with the group overpowering Josephine and demanding Marcher rules. She dealt cards around the table. Dorian groaned loudly and proclaimed his hand a waste, earning a scoff from Blackwall about his horrible bluffing. The Iron Bull leaned over and informed Blackwall that Dorian was not bluffing, his hand truly was atrocious. Dorian and Bull traded good-natured jabs as the rest of the players examined their hands and placed their bets. Eira wasn’t particularly good at Wicked Grace, as she could never remember the complicated rankings that the <i>shem</i> assigned to all the card combinations. She resolved to bet whatever Cassandra did. That should set her well enough for the night. </p><p>As they played, Josephine told a story about a night in Orlais, from when she and Leliana had been bards. It was strange to hear about that side of Josephine. Cullen began when she left off, telling them of the time a Templar trainee had wandered into the mess hall at breakfast completely naked. Eira found herself laughing, perhaps too loudly as her head spun slightly. She drank again. She had been steadily losing money to her friends, but she supposed money wasn’t much to her anymore. She had more than she ever thought she needed. </p><p>“Hey Rutherford, remember the time we improved Stannard’s posters around Hightown?” Marjana asked, slurring slightly as she clapped Cullen on the back. Eira froze, watching the pair. Marjana wasn’t particularly aggressive, but it was difficult to tell what her intention was. Most of their history together was so antagonistic, it was very likely she was trying to irritate him with the reminder. Cassandra and Varric traded a look, clearly worried. To Eira’s surprise, Cullen laughed softy.</p><p>“I was so angry at you two. Looking back, a lot of those were actually quite amusing. What did you use to paste them up, though? You know Meredith made <i>me</i> take them all down, and it was nearly impossible.” Eira looked at him and cocked an eyebrow, curious. Marjana laughed so hard that tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. </p><p>“Anders used some spell to stick them up. Maker, we watched you peeling posters off the wall in little strips, you looked like a little rodent making a nest!” Tears streamed down Varric’s face as he held his sides. Marjana puffed up her chest and plastered a scowl across her face, while miming Cullen peeling papers from a wall and collecting scraps in his hand. Cullen protested that he did <i>not</i> look like that, but he laughed while he did. Marjana turned to the rest of the table to explain the joke to her companions.</p><p>“So Stannard had the Templars put up wanted posters all over Hightown, right. And so we improved them, naturally. We gave Anders different ridiculous facial hair in each of his many posters. Edited some of her messages, made them sound like she was looking for a date or something. I think we even changed one completely so it was putting a bounty out on the Knight-Captain himself.” Marjana motioned to Cullen, who shook his head with a smile.</p><p>“It didn’t even look like me.”</p><p>“Hawke’s artwork was impeccable, Curly, I don’t know what you’re talking about. The demon horns and pointed teeth were just artistic license,” Varric said.</p><p>“The ones she put up of Raleigh, we drew such wonderful hats to cover his sad hairline,” Marjana continued, smirking.</p><p>“Raleigh? As in Raleigh Samson? Since when do you call him that, Hawke?” Cullen asked. Marjana rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, then looked over and met Eira’s gaze.</p><p>“Commander Rutherford, it’s usually considered rude to call someone by their surname while they have their head between your legs. I hope you know that.” Cullen’s face flared red. Eira drank again from her bottle, pointedly ignoring that Marjana had directed that comment toward her.</p><p>“You and Samson were lovers?”</p><p>“Don’t be jealous, Cullen. I needed to fuck a Templar to get under Anders’s skin, since that was back when he was being stubborn about me. Raleigh wasn’t technically a Templar anymore, but he worked well enough. Anders was furious. <i>You</i> were my first choice, but you turned me down.”</p><p>“Hawke, we hated each other.” Cullen stared at her in horror. Dorian and Bull whooped and called out suggestive comments.</p><p>“And? Dick is dick, Rutherford. And I always liked blondes.” Marjana raked her hand through Cullen’s hair, and he pushed her aside.</p><p>“You’re drunk, Hawke,” he said, his face returning to his habitual frown.</p><p>“Leave him be, Killer,” Varric said, smirking as he laid down his cards and collected the pot. He seemed to be making out quite well, though he hadn’t collected as much money as Josephine. Eira’s head swirled as she turned from Josephine next to her to look at Cullen across the table. Her stomach twisted with nerves as their eyes met. She had avoided him very intentionally over the past few days. Now, her belly full of alcohol, she thought not about their argument at her judgment of Erimond, nor about his body broken and shredded with shards of red. All she thought, as the brandy snaked its way through her body and warmed her cheeks, was how very handsome he was, and how kindly he had spoken in his letters to her. She smiled shyly, forgetting for a moment that anyone else was around, lost in his eyes and in the buzz in her head. He smiled back, but his eyes were worried.</p><p>“Hey Boss, remind me that elf curse that means ‘wolf dick’? I’m running out of ways to complain about my bad luck here!” the Iron Bull shouted across the table, jerking her from her reverie. </p><p>“<i>Fenedhis,</i>” she replied, to great uproar of cursing and laughter around the table. Eira couldn’t help but laugh. Perhaps Varric had been right to bully her into this, perhaps it was a good thing. She downed another gulp of brandy, barely noticing that it didn’t burn anymore. Then she began a story of her own, about a time her clan had unknowingly camped by the nearby town’s lover’s hideaway. The ruins of the old castle were likely attractive to the young lovers for the same reason they were to the clan: secluded, semi-sheltered, and just far enough from the town that they wouldn’t be disturbed. Deshanna had been furious with Eira, yelling on and on about misuses of magic that made the <i>shem</i> frightened and angry. But really, it had been worth it to see the humans running, half naked, screaming about the ghosts haunting the ruins and demanding tributes of the most ridiculous and obscure items Eira could imagine at the time. Eira laughed and wheezed as she finished her story, and her friends too laughed with her. It felt good, talking about her clan. She hadn’t in so long. </p><p>“Aha!” Cullen yelled, causing Eira to jump in her seat. He brandished his finger at Josephine across the table, and wore a satisfied grin. “I know your tell.”</p><p>“An Antivan lady has no tells, Commander,” Josephine replied, smooth and teasing. Eira noticed that Blackwall had sidled closer to her at some point, though they didn’t actually touch. </p><p>“Are you willing to bet on it, Ambassador?”</p><p>“Most certainly. Who else shall I deal in?” Eira looked down at her nearly-empty pile of coins and her nearly-empty bottle of brandy, which had been passed around the table several times. She shook her head in refusal, and even Cullen joined in to bully her for one more hand. She sighed, unable to keep the grin from her face, and pushed the last of her money into the center of the table as her ante. When the betting circled around to Cullen, though, Josephine stopped him. His crime, that of suggesting that her bluffing was fallible, would need to be repaid in more than money. He scoffed and accepted her condition, certain he wouldn’t fail. </p><p>The cards were dealt, and Cullen triumphantly laid down his hand, grinning smugly at Josephine. Until it was Josephine’s turn to reveal her cards, at least. Eira watched his face fall as he groaned and leaned his elbows against the table. The table burst into peals of laughter at his losing hand. Dorian whistled suggestively as Cullen shrugged out of his surcote, then pulled his shirt up over his shoulders. Eira took a drink, if only to keep herself from running her eyes over his bare chest. How many times had she dreamt him this way? She wouldn’t deny the hunger that ignited inside her. </p><p>“Josephine, do I really have to do this?” he complained. Marjana booed loudly, and Varric reached over to pat his arm.</p><p>“You wouldn’t renege on a deal, would you, Commander? How appalling,” Josephine said, imperious. Cullen groaned again, then turned to Marjana next to him.</p><p>“Do you <i>mind</i>?” Marjana blatantly stared at his muscled chest, an appreciative look on her face.</p><p>“Not at all, Knight-Captain. I’m rather enjoying the show.” Cullen shot her a dark look, then unlaced his breeches. More jeers erupted as he shimmied his breeches and braies down to the floor, leaving his body completely bare, obscured only by the table he now clung to.</p><p>“Please, Inquisitor, this is no time for modesty. You could be witnessing a minor miracle,” Dorian said, causing Eira to spit her drink in surprise. She had been avoiding watching him, though she wasn’t sure why Dorian would notice that. Her face was burning hot. She looked up and met Cullen’s eyes, to her instant regret. She felt her heart lurch inside her throat. His chest was as flushed red as his face, his body all muscle and littered with scars. This image was going to be seared in Eira’s memory. Perhaps it would replace the ones already there, where he was bleeding and shredded apart and twisted. Here, he was real. She looked away, and the cheers died down as Cullen put his red face in his hands.</p><p>“You win, Montilyet.” The game wound down shortly after, as many of the players had run out of money or become too drunk to continue. Eira stood to leave, grabbing the edge of the table as the world spun dangerously around her. She climbed onto the table and sat in front of Varric.</p><p>“This was good. You… I needed this. You’re really good, Varric. The... best Fade dwarf. Thanks for being... my friend,” Eira said. Her words were slurred, and she couldn’t find the right things to express her gratitude. But he smiled his classic grin as he pulled Marjana’s arm across his shoulders. She looked to be asleep, and Eira really didn’t know how he was planning to move her.</p><p>“Kid, you’ve been through too much. You gotta take time away from it all. You’re the Inquisitor, sure, but you’re still a person. And you’ve got friends who want to help.” He wound his hand back and slapped Marjana, who awoke with a murmur, and began the process of extracting her from her seat. Eira turned to Cullen. She was very sure she shouldn’t say anything, certain that she would hate herself for it. But it was so hard to stop the words from tumbling out when she was so drunk.</p><p>“You…” she began. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, looking all too aware that he was naked. His shoulders shrank in as if he could curl himself away and disappear. </p><p>“I like you like this,” she said, voice syrupy as she looked down at his bare chest. Cullen’s eyes widened in surprise at her very brazen words. “Lot better than before. No lyrium this time, never ends well.” Cullen’s face was equal parts astonished and baffled, and couldn’t have been redder. Eira pushed herself off the table and to the floor, and stumbled out of the room. She managed to make it to just outside the Herald’s Rest before she vomited.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>2020 has been a truly abysmal year, but I did fall in love with writing fanfiction. Honestly, it turned out to be a pretty great coping mechanism! Thanks so much to everyone who's kudosed and commented, it's meant the world to me! Here's hoping that in 2021 we get a better deal.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Chapter 52</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Preparations begin for the trip to Halamshiral</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I have received assurance we may bring a small contingent of soldiers, but they will not be allowed within the palace building. We will have to keep them outside of the walls of Halamshiral. Inquisitor Lavellan is to officially accompany Gaspard de Chalons, but it is customary for such an invitation to extend to a small retinue of hers. It would look poor form to use this as an excuse to bring armed men into the palace, of course,” Josephine said. The map of Thedas across the war table was covered with a set of building plans. Eira found it hard to understand the meaning behind the boxes. She knew it was the map of the palace at Halamshiral, and her advisors seemed to have little difficulty visualizing the building as they talked through their plans for the upcoming ball. But buildings had never been a place Eira had spent much time, and it was even harder to remember where anything was when it was just a square on a piece of paper. They had reviewed the layout of the palace, and had extensively outlined the routes an assassin might take to sneak through unnoticed. Eira’s attention was wavering after such a long time. </p><p>“I’m going,” Cullen said. It wasn’t a question, firm and confident. Eira twirled the end of her braid, trying to release the anxious energy in her fingers.</p><p>“Well that’s a surprising change of heart,” Leliana said with a smirk, earning a frown from Cullen.</p><p>“If I can’t send soldiers to protect her then I need to make sure she’s safe myself,” he snapped back, face growing pink.</p><p>“<i>She</i> is right here, you know,” Eira said. Just a hint of teasing hid behind her words, and just the barest smile tugged the corners of her lips. Cullen turned to her, pleading look in his eyes and sputtering apologies on his lips.</p><p>“Of course you’ll be attending, Cullen. As I already told you, the three of us will be accompanying Eira as representatives of the Inquisition leadership. I’m glad you’ve decided to stop arguing the point with me.” Josephine shot him a smirk, then continued on. “I would recommend bringing Cassandra, she is well respected. Warden Blackwall would be a good choice as well, if you wish to signal the Inquisition’s support of the Grey Wardens. Varric would be acceptable too. The Orlesians are unlikely to see many dwarves, but I suspect he will be able to charm them well enough that he will not be a hindrance.”</p><p>“Are you sure Dorian wouldn’t be better? He’s human, after all,” Eira said, voice bitter again. Josephine, to her credit, didn’t react to the barb.</p><p>“I am not condoning the views of the Orlesian court, merely advising on it, Inquisitor. And no, I suspect a Tevinter mage would not make the most apt companion at an Orlesian ball.” Eira sighed.</p><p>“Fine, you know best, Josephine.” Josephine pressed her lips tight, then scribbled onto her notepad. </p><p>“So, when will our outfits be finished? I promise not to resent you for making me wear those awful boots,” Leliana cut in. The smile on her face was cold, as it always was.</p><p>“The tailor should be finished within the week. Until then, it would be best if we reviewed proper etiquette and the dances you may encounter. I’ve allotted time in your schedules for the next week. It won’t be nearly enough time, but it should help you get through the night without any major embarrassments.”</p><p>“Josephine, do you really think it’s necessary? No one will expect the Dalish religious prophet to dance or bow the right way. I don’t want to waste my time playing princess.” Eira crossed her arms before her, looking down at the map on the table.</p><p>“The only thing you will be playing is the Game, and it is not something to be taken lightly.”</p><p>“A game? Not even they take it seriously.” Eira didn’t bother to conceal her contempt. Josephine’s jaw clenched in anger.</p><p>“That is where you are wrong, Inquisitor. The Game is the primary occupation of the Orlesian nobility, and they take great care. It is not uncommon for a knife to be slipped between an enemy’s ribs at an event like this, or a poison snuck into a drink. You are feared and reviled by many, just as you are worshipped by some. Though rumor would have Celene’s assassination planned for the evening, yours is a very likely candidate as well. Whomever did end your life would gain a notoriety they could use to propel themselves to importance, and that will be enticing. Not to mention the possibility of religious zealots among the guests and staff. It was only a few years ago that a mage from the White Spire attempted to assassinate Divine Justinia at such an event. The lower the court thinks of you, the more likely it is that someone will act on such impulse. The favor of those around you is an armor you will desperately need. And, further, Eira, you asked that I not forget that you are not human. The court will think little of a Dalish apostate. And even though your assassination is a worst-case scenario, I do fully expect that you will be mocked, belittled, and dismissed. This will impact your success on your mission and the Orlesians’ opinion of the Inquisition. It is crucial that you understand the correct etiquette so you recognize when they break it with you, and so that you can prove to them that you’re every bit as intelligent and capable as they are.” </p><p>The room stood silent following Josephine’s outpouring. Eira was stunned, and more than a bit ashamed. Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t a speech about keeping her safe. She kept her eyes trained on the ground as she swallowed hard against the lump that had sprung up at the back of her throat. By Mythal, the last thing she needed was to burst into tears.</p><p>“In any case, there is more to be prepared. You and Cullen will begin your lessons later today. I will take my leave, until our next meeting.”</p><p>“Wait, Josephine, surely it isn’t necessary for--” Cullen began. He stopped as Josephine leveled a withering gaze at him. Eira drew in a shuddering breath as Josephine left, carefully averting her eyes from Cullen’s concerned gaze. She muttered an excuse, then hurried from the room herself.</p><p>________________________________</p><p>Cullen glowered as he sat next to Leliana.</p><p>“Lighten up, Cullen. She’ll be here soon,” Leliana said.</p><p>“I still don’t think this is necessary.”</p><p>“I can get Josephine to make another speech for you, if you need.”</p><p>“You could have at least said you were our teacher.”</p><p>“Then you’d never show up, Cullen.” He huffed in response, and got up to pace the room. A single violinist set up at the side of the room, tuning her instrument. </p><p>“You don’t have to look so cross.”</p><p>“I have a headache.”</p><p>“Are you still having withdrawal symptoms?” Leliana’s voice was light and airy, hiding the weight behind her words. Cullen whirled around to face her, eyes narrowed.</p><p>“I haven’t taken any since the day Hawke showed up.” Cullen flexed his fingers, working through the sudden rush of anxiety that ran through him whenever he thought about the lyrium. It was so easy to forget sometimes, now that he had stopped for so long. Leliana remained silent, until he sighed and let his shoulders drop.</p><p>“I still have difficulty sleeping. The nightmares are quite persistent.”</p><p>“What do you dream about?” Leliana managed to sound so casual, so smooth, but Cullen knew her well enough to know that she was always very intentional in what she said. He considered for a moment, before walking over to sit next to her.</p><p>“About Kinloch, mostly. Sometimes about Eir-- my friends dying.”</p><p>“The Tower was in a horrible state when we arrived. I can’t imagine what you went through there.” The pair sat silently, watching the violinist warming up with a waltz. It wasn’t a song Cullen was familiar with, but that was to be expected, he supposed. They were practicing for Orlesian court, after all.</p><p>“Lucija told me how proud she was of how far you’ve come,” Leliana said. “She said you’d grown so much since you were with her. She was glad you seemed happy.” A pang of sadness washed over Cullen.</p><p>“She was always kind-hearted like that.”</p><p>“She was. I think she sent cookies to Sten for years after the Blight, just because he said they were the only thing he liked about Ferelden.”</p><p>“Luci used to teach the younger mages in her spare time. Her best friend was awful at controlling his magic, but she practiced with him nearly every day anyway. It didn’t make him any better, of course. The man burned my eyebrows off once during a lesson I was supervising.” Cullen chuckled at the memory. “But no matter how bad Jowan was, she never gave up on trying to teach him. I admired that about her.”</p><p>“Jowan? She defended him to the end. Even after everything he did to Arl Eamon, she argued against his execution. She and Alistair fought fiercely about it. Luci was sometimes too eager to see the good in people, she collected quite a bunch of followers that way. But she was a good friend.”</p><p>“Leliana, was Luci… I mean… did she ever… I’ve always wondered, when did she and Alistair get together?” Cullen knew he had utterly failed to sound casual in his question. Leliana chuckled.</p><p>“She did talk about you, sometimes. The handsome, sweet Templar she left behind. I think she was sad, at first, about leaving the Tower behind, and leaving you. She was pretty upset after we rescued you, you know. I think you broke her heart.”</p><p>“I never should have said those things, I was so--”</p><p>“You don’t need to explain. I think she came to realize it too. She didn’t get together with Alistair until later, though I think he was in love with her for a long time before she noticed. Ooh, you should have seen her flirting with Teagan Guerrin at Redcliffe! I thought steam was going to come out of Alistair’s ears, but he was too shy to do anything about it.” Leliana and Cullen laughed. He felt the tension leaving his body. He had advised Eira to confide in her friends, to find comfort in speaking to them. It was so unlike him, to take his own advice. Cullen smoothed his hair back, thinking about Eira. She was taking it all so hard. He couldn’t banish the knot in his stomach when he thought about her. Worry and nerves and longing all twisted together into a leaden weight in his belly.</p><p>“You must be sad to lose Lucija,” he said finally. Leliana stared far away at nothing, the smile on her face turned cold.</p><p>“I am. But sadness is a part of life too. If anyone was going to find their way to the Maker after they died, it would be her.”</p><p>“It would.” Cullen wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they sat together for several deep sighs. Leliana got up then, and looked out the door down the hall.</p><p>“If Eira is much later, I’m going to have to send someone to find her,” she said, hovering between annoyance and worry.</p><p>“I could go look for her,” Cullen offered.</p><p>“What, and escape your dance practice? I don’t think so.”</p><p>“It was worth a try.” Leliana laughed at his words. Cullen felt light, not resenting the mandatory dance practice nearly as much as he pretended to. Not if it meant he would hold Eira in his arms the whole time.</p><p>“I can tell what you see in her, our Inquisitor. She really is a remarkable woman.” a hint of mischief glimmered in Leliana’s eye. Cullen scrambled for words. Was it really so obvious? Leliana laughed wickedly as he felt his face turn red.</p><p>“Wha-- I… how do you… I- I mean…” Just then Eira rushed in, slightly winded, saving him from further teasing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am a sucker for Amell/Cullen, even if I didn't let them be together ultimately. But they are getting their own sweet little fic, so that's nice!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Chapter 53</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eira makes amends</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira had lost track of time as she sat on the Skyhold roof, watching the clouds rolling across the pale sky. She had brought a book and spent time flipping through the pages, but she couldn’t focus on the history of Orlesian families. It wasn’t a topic she had cared to read about, in any case, but now her thoughts were swirling furiously through her head, like storm winds, and she couldn’t focus. It wasn’t until she realized the sun was casting pink light across the snowcaps that she remembered her lessons with Leliana. She was more than a bit late, judging by how low the sun hung over the horizon. She lowered herself from the rooftop and began a hurried walk toward the room she was meant to meet in. The sooner she got there, the less likely she was to receive some sort of lecture. </p><p>Arriving at the hall, she was surprised for only a moment to see Cullen there. She had forgotten he was to learn with her. She felt her heart clench inside her chest, like she was being squeezed too tightly. She hadn’t spoken much with Cullen since her return from Dirthavaren. The letters they had exchanged had been more open than she had intended. He was right. It had felt good to have someone else who knew what she had been through, who had listened to her fears. But now she wasn’t sure what to say to him. It was too raw, too pained. She wasn’t sure if she should begin with <i>”you’re the only reason I’m holding together right now”</i> or <i>”lovely weather we’re having”</i>. Cullen looked nervous as he muttered a greeting. Perhaps he regretted the things they had shared.</p><p>Leliana quickly began. She reviewed the steps to the dances they would most likely encounter, then practiced with each of them in turn. She seemed to have little difficulty switching between leading and following roles. It was easy to forget that Leliana had spent years of her life in the Orlesian courts, but it was clearly evident now. Eira preferred when Leliana pushed her gently, reminding her where to move her body. It was much more difficult when it was her turn to lead, and she had to remember each step and guide Leliana through them. </p><p>After an hour of instruction, Leliana deemed them ready to practice a dance together. Eira placed her hand on Cullen’s. His fingers were warm as he closed them gently around hers. There was little time to wonder at the feeling. The violinist began to play at half speed, and Leliana called out instructions to the pair. They stumbled their way through dance after dance. Cullen had a pained expression on his face, as if he would rather be doing anything else. Eira yelped each time he stepped on her toes, which only deepened the creases across his forehead. Their last dance was a waltz, and blissfully easier than the previous ones. Cullen held her delicately, fingers brushing softly against her back. Her hand felt natural on his shoulder, his hand warm in hers. He pushed and pulled her gently, moving her body along with his. This, at least, was a palace she could feel safe. Until the demon’s words came whispering through her mind again. <i>you are a monster, after all, like the ones who tortured me</i>. Eira tried to focus on her feet as her stomach lurched unpleasantly. The dancing was difficult enough, without the distraction of Cullen and her longing for him. He held her tighter as the last notes of the song rang through the hall, his fingers tense against her back. The song had ended, but he held her for a second longer, two, three, before replacing his arms stiffly at his sides.</p><p>“That’s enough for today. You’ve done well, perhaps you won’t embarrass us at court,” Leliana said, winking at Cullen. “Until tomorrow.” Leliana left, and the violinist began to pack up her instrument. Eira hovered awkwardly, wondering if she should leave or if she should say something to the man standing beside her. </p><p>“I ah, I apologize for stepping on your feet,” Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck. Eira felt herself soften at the image.</p><p>“I’m surprised you don’t know these dances. Is it not something Fereldans learn?”</p><p>“It’s not something Templars learn, no.” Cullen laughed gently. Eira smiled slightly.</p><p>“Is that why you joined? To avoid the horrors of social dancing?” Cullen laughed. Tendrils of warmth snaked through Eira’s body. The days of silence between them faded away into a memory as she giggled softly.</p><p>“Yes, absolutely. Of course, now that I’ve left, it seems that I’m back in the grips of it. Which is a shame, things were going so well for me otherwise.” Eira’s face fell at the joke, the reminder of the present, of the things they were living through. Was he really happier? It was true he had a great deal of pain in his past. Was his life here better, working for her?</p><p>“Has it been? Going well, I mean? Are you…” Eira’s voice was soft, her eyes gazing down at the floor.</p><p>“Happy? It’s hard to say. I think I’ve felt more at peace here than I have in a long time.” He placed a hand on her arm, sending a rush of feeling through her body. “You aren’t though.” It wasn’t a question. Eira felt her stomach twist in a knot. She looked up, and Cullen was watching her with concern.</p><p>“I want to be. Being happy here feels like… admitting I won’t go back.” Eira sighed. Cullen turned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. </p><p>“You may be stuck here until all this mess is resolved, but you don’t need to suffer. None of us know what will happen once all this is finished. For right now, though, I-- we all-- care for you. Give yourself permission to be happy while you’re here.” Eira blinked at the tears that welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. Being near him, looking up into his warm eyes, it was so easy to believe his words. It was so easy to melt forward into his arms too. She rested her cheek against his collarbone, nuzzling her forehead into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him. He was warm, sturdy, safe. He smelled faintly of elderflower and oakmoss. She stood there, wrapped up in him, letting the tension in her body drain away. Perhaps she could be happy here, if he was by her side. And perhaps he would be.</p><p>“You should talk with Josephine,” he said, breaking the silence between them.</p><p>“I’ve been awful to her. She won’t want to talk to me.” Cullen pulled back from their embrace and cupped his hand under Eira’s chin, pulling her face up to look at him. She felt a shiver run through her body. How easy it would be to lean in, to close the space between them and drink him in. Did she dare to want such a thing?</p><p>“Do not decide for her.” Eira lost balance for the briefest moment, swaying under his gaze. That was all it took for him to remember his propriety. He pulled his hand back quickly, adjusting the surcote across his shoulders. The air in the room was suddenly stale and stifling. Cullen coughed.</p><p>“If you’ll excuse me, there is much I must prepare before we march to Halashamal.”</p><p>“<i>Halamshiral</i>,” Eira corrected. Cullen’s face grew pinker, his expression mortified. Eira smiled, and Cullen visibly relaxed. Had he been expecting anger?</p><p>“It seems dancing isn’t the only thing I need practice on.” He shook his head, rueful smile on his face. “Until tomorrow, Eira.”</p><p>“Until tomorrow, Cullen.”</p><p>____________________________________</p><p>Eira knocked her elbow against the door to Josephine’s office, since her hands were full with the tray of tea and pastries. </p><p>“Yes, Belle, come in,” Josephine called, as Eira pushed open the door and let herself in. “Have you finished your report on the recent land acquisitions by the Orlesian houses? It would be-- oh.” Josephine stopped as she looked up from her writing and saw Eira. Eira’s heart sank, her chest aching at the look of carefully guarded fear in her friend’s eyes.</p><p>“Inquisitor. What can I do for you?” Josephine smiled, so convincingly that Eira would almost believe she was happy to see her. </p><p>“I ah… brought tea,” Eira said. Her heart fluttered nervously as she scanned Josephine’s face for any indication of her true emotions. </p><p>“Of course, Let me clear a place,” Josephine said. She got up from her desk and moved to the small table where she sometimes entertained guests. She cleared a few papers, then took the tray from Eira’s hands and placed it down. She began pouring the tea into the mismatched cups that Eira had scrounged from the kitchens. Eira sat down, shifting in her seat and adjusting her jacket as Josephine prepared her tea the way she liked it. She had such a memory for these things. </p><p>“So, what was it you needed to discuss, Inquisitor?” Eira flinched slightly at the title, knowing it was her fault she was being treated so cautiously.</p><p>“I was… I… wanted to apologize.” Eira twisted her hands in her lap, watching the pink of her fingers go pale as she squeezed them together. “The way I’ve talked to you, I’ve been awful. And I should have written to you while I was gone.” Eira felt her eyes filling up with tears, her throat growing tight. “Everything has just been so much, and I didn’t mean to lash out, and I don’t want you to think I’m angry at you, and I’m messing everything up!” Eira’s voice grew strained as tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes. She bowed her head forward as her shoulders began to shake. She barely heard the sound of Josephine replacing her teacup on the table and getting up. She felt her friend’s arms wrap around her, holding her in a tight hug as sniffed and whimpered.</p><p>“Gordon told me about what you went through at Adamant. It’s not surprising you’re feeling overwhelmed. I just was worried that something had changed. I just didn’t want to lose you,” Josephine said. Eira cried even harder as relief washed through her. She hadn’t lost Varric, hadn’t lost Cullen, and hadn’t lost Josephine. She had them, and Cassandra and Bull and Dorian and Leliana. She wasn’t alone. Josie pulled back after a few minutes, as Eira’s breathing returned to normal, hastily wiping her damp eyes. She settled back into her chair and took up her teacup, sipping the now-cool drink. Eira curled her feet up under her as she sat, wiping her face dry. </p><p>“So, ah. Do you really think I can learn how to behave like a lady by the time we get to Halamshiral?” Eira asked, laughing. Josephine smiled.</p><p>“I have every confidence in you. But let us not talk of work. There will be more than enough of that. Tell me, how were your dance lessons with the Commander?” </p><p>“Isn’t that talking about work, Josie?”</p><p>“It would be, if the dancing were what I was interested in.” Josephine had a playful glint in her eye. </p><p>“What else are you…” Eira narrowed her eyes as she thought. “Josephine, what was the real reason you set this up?” Josephine raised her hands in feigned innocence.</p><p>“It is true that you will need to impress the court, and if you can dance with the nobility on the floor they will think more highly of you. The Commander, however, is an ex-Templar. He has a very legitimate and respectable reason to lack knowledge of courtly life, and it won’t reflect poorly on him.”</p><p>“So… he doesn’t need to prove he can dance? So then why are you making him learn?”</p><p>“Keeping him humble, for one. But mostly, Leliana says you two have been exchanging letters quite reliably while you are away in the field. I thought you might appreciate the time together.”</p><p>“What?” Eira coughed as she choked on her tea. She could feel her face flaring red as she searched for the right expression. Something confused yet unconcerned, indignant but casual. From Josephine’s smirk, she was fairly certain she had failed to conceal her feelings.</p><p>“It wasn’t completely devious. He’s been so concerned for you since Adamant, I thought he may have a chance of helping you through whatever you’re feeling. It was only a secondary benefit that it might help you two work things out.”</p><p>“Josie! I- I don’t… I’m not…”</p><p>“I am a diplomat, did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Josephine raised an eyebrow, appearing very pleased with herself. Eira sputtered and blushed.</p><p>“You’re horrible, Josie.”</p><p>“Just doing my job, <i>Inquisitor</i>.” Josephine winked, and Eira laughed in spite of herself. It felt good, now that she had released all the hurt inside her. It felt like coming home.</p><p>“I’ll admit, I thought things were doomed between you two after your fight, before you left for the Approach. And it really was troublesome gossip to have to smother, so please don’t plan on a repeat performance.”</p><p>“I’m not planning on it, trust me. I don’t want to mess up whatever we have now, it’s been… it’s been nice having him to talk to.”</p><p>“He must write exquisite letters, to have you so taken.”</p><p>“Josie, don’t,” Eira groaned. She shifted nervously in her seat, pulling her knees tighter to her body. “I <i>don’t want to mess things up</i>, that definitely includes imposing myself on him.”</p><p>“Imposing? Cullen would be thrilled. Have you not noticed the way he looks at you?”</p><p>“Please, Josie, I’m a Dalish mage. It’s hard to say which of those would be more offensive to him. I can’t picture him actually <i>with</i> an apostate, not after everything he’s been through.” Eira’s face grew dark, as their banter touched upon the fears that were lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be heard once again.</p><p>“Come now, you’re--”</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it, Josie. Please.” Eira’s voice grew anxious, small. </p><p>“Of course, I apologize.” Josephine said, sipping from her teacup. “So, let me tell you about what Gordon wrote to me.” Eira perked up, as Josephine told her all about the letters she had exchanged with the Warden. They talked for nearly an hour, with Josephine’s animated storytelling pulling Eira from her dark mood. And for a while, at least, Eira forgot about the trip to Halamshiral, forgot about the nightmares, forgot about the Anchor on her hand. For a short time, Eira forgot all the worries that had plagued her mind. Here was a place she belonged. With a friend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the last nice chapter before the utter HELL that is Halamshiral ughhhhhh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. Chapter 54</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We're on our way to Halamshiral!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next week passed quickly. Eira was whisked to meetings, lessons, and fittings until her head spun. She was exhausted, of course. The nightmares continued to plague her sleep. She would wake in the small hours of the morning and sit out on the balcony, looking out over the castle that she controlled. It was such a strange thought, such an unimaginable situation. And yet, it was tempered by the familiar constellations overhead, the feeling of the cold air as it cut through her shift and made her shiver. She would sit there, looking up at the sky, trying to reconcile the reality she felt with her body against the impossibility she felt in her heart.</p><p>Staying busy had been a blessing. She wasn’t alone for more than a few minutes each day, and the exhaustion allowed her to collapse into bed and fall asleep quickly. Even if she woke later, she got at least a few hours of sleep that way. And while she was awake she had her friends around her. Josephine was back to her chipper self, as if nothing had passed between them. Varric was more aggressive than ever with his attempts to cheer her, and between him and Dorian she found herself laughing until her sides ached. Even Marjana Hawke was pleasant enough to be around as she gave her reports on the support from the Free Marches’s cities and whatever information her sister had found relating to Corypheus. Slowly, Eira was beginning to feel again, like she had come in from the cold and her fingers were beginning to thaw. </p><p>Then, as Eira had begun to settle into life at Skyhold, the Inquisition mobilized. Eira left alongside a retinue of soldiers, her advisors, and her friends. The journey was far more comfortable than she was accustomed to, since the roads they traveled were in much better repair. The small amount of contentment she had cultivated within her quickly soured the closer they came to Halamshiral. She felt the nervous spikes of energy buzzing through her at the thought of what she would face. Varric and Marjana usually managed to pull her from her moods with their antics. Josephine meant well, but her assurances were so detailed and descriptive that they only served to remind Eira of situations she hadn’t yet worried about. Cullen grew more taciturn as they went on, snapping at Josephine more than once as she reviewed political details. She was as infinitely patient as always. The journey was over all too quickly, bringing them to the place Eira was dreading.</p><p>Eira found little sleep the night before the ball. She woke up in a cold sweat, emerging from yet another dark dream. She tossed in her bed for a few minutes, before giving up and leaving her tent. She could feel the anxious energy in her body, and knew that sleep wouldn’t come. She wandered out into the early morning, enjoying the quiet. She settled herself at the edge of the camp, watching the sky over the hills begin to change from black to purple to pink. She almost wished she was preparing for a fight that evening. Then she would know what to expect.</p><p>Eira turned, hearing footsteps behind her. Cullen was more undressed than usual, in breeches and a thin shirt, his hair splayed in wild curls atop his head. Eira felt a flutter inside her at the sight. She pulled her knees tighter to her chest as he approached and offered her a mug of tea.</p><p>“You should still be asleep,” he said, sitting beside her on the cool grass. She took the mug from his hand, trying to ignore the jolt that ran through her as their fingertips brushed.</p><p>“You’re awake too,” she argued, sipping the tea. She made a face at the taste. It was still warm, though very bitter, as if it had been steeped for far too long.</p><p>“You have been up all night since you returned to Skyhold. It’s not like you.”</p><p>“How would you know when I’m not sleeping?” The question was light, gentle. Cullen held up his hand, palm facing her, and wiggled his fingers.</p><p>“You glow. I can see it when you’re standing on your balcony.” Eira busied herself with another sip of bitter tea, hoping he couldn’t read her emotions on her face.</p><p>“You wouldn’t if <i>you were asleep<i>, you know.” Eira tried to keep her voice light, playful, to conceal just how much she had longed for him while she stared out over the castle’s walls.</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I haven’t slept properly in ten years. I daresay I can manage by now.” He kept his voice completely flat, but his wink to Eira betrayed his joking. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Well you’ll have to teach me sometime. I’d enjoy not sleeping with you.” Cullen’s eyebrows shot up, and Eira buried her head in her arms as she realized what she had said. “Mythal’s mercy, please, you know that’s not what I meant!” Cullen laughed softly, the sound a ringing tenor. Eira groaned, but couldn’t help but join in. She felt warmth blooming in her chest. Cullen was the perfect antidote for the poison that had invaded her mind in the night.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Thank you, Cullen. For… everything. For being there for me, for forgiving me. I don’t know if I could handle this without you here.” Eira’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. She looked into the depths of her mug, avoiding his gaze. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Eira, I… you have no idea how much you’ve helped me. I’m glad to return the favor.” Eira felt her heart skip. It was all coming too close to something she didn’t dare consider, something she was too frightened to want. And yet, he made it all so easy. The silence that followed was a warm, comfortable thing. Eira leaned against Cullen and, after a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her. They sat together in silence, watching the sun come up over the hills, sipping their tea. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It was the last moment of peace Eira found that day. As the camp stirred, she was found by Josephine’s servants. She was whisked to a bath, scrubbed within an inch of her life, and meticulously styled. The day wore on. Eira was too anxious to eat, sipping tea and nibbling at a pastry to placate Josephine. She was dressed in her finery. Eira had liked Josephine’s idea of dressing the Inquisition in uniform, rather than frothy dresses. She hadn't anticipated, however, just how ornamented and bedecked that uniform would be. Her face was painted, hair bound back, feet stuffed into impractically heeled boots. All too soon, it was time to travel to the palace.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Eira took a bracing breath in as she saw a man awaiting them, whom Josephine kindly informed her was Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. Cousin to Empress Celene and contender for her throne. The man who had instigated the current civil war. From what Josephine had told her, Gaspard was a former Chevalier, and a hero of some former Nevarran incursion. He disagreed with Celene’s diplomacy, and wanted to return Orlais to a more powerful, aggressive state. He was, also, her escort for the evening. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Inquisitor Lavellan, it is so good to finally meet. I have heard so much about you, though your beauty comes as a most pleasant surprise.” Eira did her best to keep her face blank as he looked her over. She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or not. She felt ridiculous, with her lips painted pale to blend in with her skin and her eyes shadowed in dark black. Josephine said it was a daring look, powerful. Eira felt she resembled a raccoon. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“The Ferelden Templars and the Grey Wardens of Orlais both answer to you now, from what I hear. Imagine what you could do with the full support of the rightful ruler of Orlais.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“And who would that be, Grand Duke?” Eira asked, innocently as she could manage. Gaspard laughed.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“You are a wily thing too! This shall be an interesting night.” Gaspard held out his arm, and Eira wrapped her hand over it just as Josephine had showed her. They moved toward the terrace that was dwarfed by a set of huge, blue doors.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I am not a man who forgets my friends, Inquisitor. If you help me, I’ll help you.” Gaspard’s voice was low and slick, his accent tugging and smoothing the sounds until they ran together. He may have been handsome, but it was difficult to tell with the mask that concealed his face. Eira concentrated on her feet, willing herself not to stumble as they made their way up the marble steps. The people around them pointed and whispered as they walked by. They were all masked as well, and dressed in clothing meant to puff and billow. Eira struck a slim silhouette in comparison, her white coat covering her body closely from shoulder to knee. In what Josephine assured her was a fashion amongst Orlesian enchanters, the front of the coat crossed in a diamond over Eira’s décolletage, leaving an area of exposed skin, milky-white and speckled. Gold buttons shone down the front of her gown, hidden only by the golden sash at her waist. It was a lavish outfit, one that advertised wealth and power, but not one that fit with the Orlesian court. One that declared she would be playing her own game by her own rules.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Are you prepared to shock the assembly by appearing as the guest of a hateful usurper, my lady? They will be telling stories of this into the next age.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I think I’ll be shocking enough to the court without your influence, Gaspard,” Eira said. A hint of her annoyance leaked into her voice. Gaspard, however, remained graceful.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Of course. But we do make quite a pair, I think. And, as a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening. This Elven woman, Briala, I suspect she intends to interrupt the negotiations we are holding this evening. My people have found her <i>ambassadors</i> all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.” Eira’s face flashed with anger, before she remembered to smooth it over into a calm, neutral expression once again. <i>Fenedhis</i>, this was going to be a long night. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Perhaps the elves will be more willing to deal with one of their own.” Eira’s voice betrayed her anger. Gaspard sighed.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Whatever you do, be discreet. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will turn us into villains. But, we are keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor. Shall we?” Gaspard motioned toward the doors, which a guard opened for them. Eira balled her hands into fists, before relaxing them and walking through. The antechamber was draped in red and gold, carpeted in rich burgundy over cold, pale marble. The ceilings towered above. Eira wondered for a moment what the palace would look like if it were built in the style of the elves who rightfully belonged here. She strode in, keeping her head forward despite the flurry of whispers that followed her. She heard names being called from the main hall, some sort of presentation of guests to the Empress. Eira caught Cullen’s eye as she and Gaspard were reunited with the Inquisition’s advisors. Apparently, they would enter with her. She would not be alone. Cullen stared at her, his eyes sliding from the spiked golden crown atop her head to the glittering gold paint carefully laid over her vallaslin, lingering over the cut of her coat, the way it exposed the tops of her breasts and skimmed over the swell of her hips, and then down to her feet, where the cape of golden lace that draped from her shoulders pooled on the ground. Eira was surprised by the hunger in his eyes. It was a look she usually only saw in her nightmares of him. She had little time to consider it, however, as it was time to move to the grand hall.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Gaspard tugged her gently along, until they stood at one end of the dance floor, in the middle of the grand hall. It was recessed into the floor, creating a mezzanine level from which the countless, faceless nobles watched the proceedings. Gentle music of stringed instruments filled the air with a false calm.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“And now presenting, Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons,” an announcer called from off to the side. Eira jumped, even though Josephine had told her to expect it. She knew her introduction was next. She composed herself quickly, and moved to the end of the dance floor. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“And accompanying him, Inquisitor Eira Ariss Lavellan,”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Eira didn’t flinch at the mispronunciation of her name. She breathed in and closed her eyes, concentrating. The Anchor on her bare left hand flared to life, illuminating her white coat with a sickly green. She began to walk in slow, measured steps.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Champion of the Blessed Andraste Herself, Leader of the Second Inquisition,”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Eira strode forward, feeling the bottom of her cape splayed out and dragging along the floor behind her.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Shepherd and leash of the wayward Order of the Templars, purger of the heretics from the ranks of the faithful,”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Eira summoned a hint of electricity. She let the energy flow upward, sparking and arcing between the spiked pillars of the crown that towered over her head.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“She who walks the wasteland of the Fade untouched,”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Eira’s footsteps remained a faintly sparking image on the floor for seconds after she had moved her boots forward.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Reformer of the Order of the Grey, first of her Clan,”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Eira kept her chin tilted upward, letting the lights from the ceiling dance along the gold that laced across her cheeks. She kept her eyes trained forward, staring at the Empress as she waited.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Seamstress of the heavens, Mender of the tear in the skies.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Eira came to a stop at the end of the hall. Empress Celene looked down from the mezzanine, insipid smile on her lips.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eira at Halamshiral! I did enjoy the spirit behind the outfits for the Winter Palace, but the look was just... less than ideal.</p><p>https://www.deviantart.com/thelittlestchocobo/art/Lavellan-at-Halamshiral-864164646</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Chapter 55</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exploring Halamshiral</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira never broke eye contact with Empress Celene as she waited for her advisors to join her across the grand hall. Celene’s face was impassive behind her golden mask. Eira felt, for a moment, bare compared to the faceless nobles hiding behind their masks. She was dressed, dolled, and painted beyond her own recognition, but she was not hidden. She was a figure on display for their consumption. </p>
<p>“Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace,” Celene said. She was imperious in her deep blue gown. Golden wings flared out from behind her, to rival Eira’s spiked crown. Eira felt a pang of appreciation for Josephine. Her own outfit was a challenge to Celene’s, an indication of her power and her status. That was certainly no accident. </p>
<p>“I am humbled by your welcome. I had not thought to see the beauty of Halamshiral firsthand.” Eira’s voice was cold. Celene’s face remained cool, despite the barb.</p>
<p>“But of course. Your presence at our court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day.”</p>
<p>“The winds of Dirthavaren usually blow in before the rain, in my experience.”</p>
<p>“Then I suppose we shall wait and see what this evening brings for us. Tell me, how do you find Halamshiral?” Celene’s smile never reached her eyes as she stared down at Eira. Eira kept her chin lifted high, her gaze challenging Celene. </p>
<p>“It is so beautiful my heart aches.”</p>
<p>“Your modesty speaks well of the Inquisition. Now, allow me to present my cousin, Florianne de Chalons, Grand Duchess of Lydes.” Celene motioned to the woman next to her, an aging woman with short, light hair, dressed in a gown befitting the Orlesian court.</p>
<p>“What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities. We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.” Florianne bowed, then turned to leave. </p>
<p>“Please, enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance.” </p>
<p><i>I’ll bet you do</i>, Eira thought bitterly, but managed a polite smile instead.</p>
<p>Celene smiled, a look dripping with sickly syrup, before turning to address a lady behind her. The conversation was clearly over. Eira bowed the way Josephine had instructed, then walked up the stairs to leave the dance floor. She began to walk into the crowd when a hand cupped her elbow gently from behind.</p>
<p>“Inquisitor. A word, when you have a moment,” Leliana said, her voice cool and smooth. Eira paused, letting Leliana lead her through the crowd. She ignored the crier as he began presenting the next guests. So many eyes followed her as she walked among them. Eira couldn’t help feeling like a rabbit among dogs, each of them looking to hunt her for sport. The pair walked through the Grand Hall and out into the front vestibule, where there were fewer curious ears. </p>
<p>“So what did the Duke say as you arrived?”</p>
<p>“He pointed his finger at Ambassador Briala.” Eira didn’t bother to keep the contempt from her voice. It was a welcome change.</p>
<p>“The Ambassador is certainly up to something, but she can’t be our focus. The best place to strike at Celene is from her side, and that is a position she lost years ago. However, Empress Celene is fascinated by mysticism-- forseeing the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, what does that have to do--” Eira began, only to be silenced with a wave of Leliana’s hand.</p>
<p>“She has an ‘occult advisor’, much like Lucija’s role in the Fereldan court. This advisor, she is an apostate who charmed the Empress and some members of her court. Some rumors say quite literally. I’ve had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless and capable of anything.”</p>
<p>“She has an apostate at court? How is that allowed?”</p>
<p>“The Imperial Court has always had an official position for a mage. Before now, it was little better than that of a court jester. When the Circles rebelled, technically every mage became an apostate. The word has lost much of its strength.”</p>
<p>“And you think this woman is our assassin?” Eira felt her blood turn cold, dread pooling in her stomach. The woman sounded like a formidable enemy. </p>
<p>“I... no. But she’s worth investigating. We can’t be sure of anything here.” Eira nodded, concerned by the worry in Leliana’s eyes. If Leliana was worried, it was a poor sign for her indeed.</p>
<p>“Also, Inquisitor, you may find useful details in some of the off-limits areas of the palace. Try not to spend too much time away from the party, of course, but do be sure to bring me whatever you find.” Leliana’s wry smile was back, and she excused herself.</p>
<p>The first hour of the ball passed in a haze. Eira wandered through the throngs of nobles, some stopping to chat with her. She was tense, looking for any evidence of hidden daggers, literal or figurative. It was clear she was nothing more than an amusement for most of the people here. It was exhausting, feeling her hair constantly on end in anger. But she dutifully smiled and nodded, all while carrying back news of the scandals she had overheard to an eager Leliana. More troubling, however, were the rumors of the disappearances of elven servants. It gnawed at Eira, thinking about her kin ghosting around the land that should have been theirs, picked off one-by-one while polishing the boots of wealthy <i>shemlen</i>.</p>
<p>“Inquisitor Lavellan,” a voice called from behind her. “We met briefly, I am grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to the party. Florianne smiled, but Eira could tell it was a calculating thing. Eira offered her a bland, polite greeting.</p>
<p>“Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor,” Florianne said, holding out her hand. Eira’s eyebrows shot up at the invitation with its implication. Florianne detected her hesitance. “I believe we are both concerned about the actions of a certain person.” Eira decided she was more intrigued than apprehensive. She pulled the bottom of the long cape that hung like a waterfall from her shoulders and put her hand through the hidden loop, just as Josephine had shown her, bringing the hem up above the floor as it connected to her wrist. She took Florianne’s hand. The two women walked to the dance floor and took their place among the Orlesian nobility. Eira struggled to recognize the dance from its first few steps, and Florianne took the lead. Eira cursed herself inwardly for the show of weakness. </p>
<p>“You are from the Free Marches, are you not? How much do you know about our little war?” Florianne guided Eira through the steps expertly.</p>
<p>“More than I would like to, Grand Duchess.” Florianne frowned briefly. </p>
<p>“And yet you are here. It took great effort to arrange the negotiations we are holding tonight, and yet one party would use the occasion for the blackest treason.” Florianne and Eira stepped forward, gliding through the steps of the dance. Eira stumbled as she bumped into the noble in front of her, miscounting the steps. She received a glare, and cringed inwardly. “The security of the Empire is at stake. Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”</p>
<p>“That <i>is</i> why I’m here,” Eira said. Her impatience earned another frown from Florianne.</p>
<p>“You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor… and a matter of concern to some.”</p>
<p>“And which am I to you, Grand Duchess?” Eira was beginning to find her feet beneath her falling into a familiar rhythm, her confidence growing. Florianne smiled, finally.</p>
<p>“A little of both, actually. This evening is of great importance, Inquisitore. I wonder what role you will play in it.” The women twisted and spun as the dance continued. The floor had cleared, somewhat, leaving only a few pairs revolving in their lazy circle. “Do you even know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?” Eira spun twice as fast as the dance required, reversing her position with Florianne. She moved her hands to the woman’s back, and pushed just harder than necessary, in order to establish her lead.</p>
<p>“I trust the Inquisition, Your Grace. Every woman for herself in the Imperial Court, after all.” Eira advanced through the steps, leading Florianne as she did. She raised her arm, and Florianne ducked under and around, returning to her arms after a twirl.</p>
<p>“You are right. In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone. It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight.” Florianne followed Eira’s lead with much more grace than Eira had followed her.</p>
<p>“I thought that was the national sport of Orlais?” Florianne smiled, and Eira pushed her forward suddenly into a dip, resting her weight on her bent knee just like Leliana had instructed her not to do. Applause rang out from around them, and Eira realized they were the only pair left on the floor.</p>
<p>“You must act soon, before my brother can strike. I suggest you visit the Guest Wing gardens. You may find the mercenary captain my brother works with there.” Florianne and Eira turned to one another and bowed as the last notes of the dance rang through the hall. The nobles watched from the mezzanine, clapping delightedly at the display.</p>
<p>“We shall see what the night brings.” Eira turned and sauntered off, with as much grace as she could muster. She could feel the court’s eyes as she strode to the edge of the dance floor and ascended the stairs. She held her head high, her spiked crown gleaming. <i>Let the Game begin</i>.</p>
<p>Eira tried to be subtle as she gathered her companions, pulling Varric and Marjana from a circle of tittering nobles they were entertaining with some story. Cassandra and Blackwall were less engrossed, all-too-willing to come with her to escape the party. It was a simple thing, in the end, to sneak into the ballroom gardens while no one was looking. Varric climbed a terrace while Marjana caused a distraction, spilling her drink on the gown of a woman who gasped dramatically. Cassandra’s disgusted scoff only added to the illusion, though it was likely not her intention. It was only minutes later that Varric unlocked the door to the apartments that led into the vestibule, and the team slipped in. </p>
<p>The empty halls of the library echoed ominously, and the few lanterns lit cast an eerie light across the vast floors. Eira felt the silence cut apart as she stepped, heeled boots clicking against the stone. Concealed weapons were drawn, though no one was particularly happy with the daggers, miniature crossbow, and retractable staff. They would have to suffice. They wandered the halls and rooms on their way to the gardens, finding nothing of particular interest. Varric was quick to identify papers and records that may contain useful information, most of it blackmail to be sent along to Leliana. But it was Marjana who found the order from Gaspard crumpled and stuffed into the crook of a pillar.</p>
<p>“<i>Phillipe,</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Move in on the western wing of the palace when I send you three shots of brandy. Not taking any chances.</i>
</p>
<p><i>Gaspard</i>”</p>
<p>“Who is Philipe?” Eira asked, reading over the note.</p>
<p>“A mercenary captain,” Blackwall answered, surprising the party. “I overheard some men talking earlier,” he explained. </p>
<p>“Florianne mentioned Gaspard hiring a mercenary captain,” Eira said, frowning in thought. The group deliberated for a moment, before Eira stuffed the note into her pocket. The group passed through the library into the Guest Wing. The rooms here were richly decorated, and appeared to be lived in. It must be common to have guests here, then. They crawled through the rooms, poring over books and letters and hidden chests, looking for anything of import. Finally, they reached a room particularly grand. Eira found a chest tucked at the back of an armoire filled with expensive gowns, and pulled it out. It was gilded and shut with a brass lock. It seemed the sort of place to find something useful. She called ovr Varric, who placed the box on a table, taking little time to break open the lock. It contained a few letters, addressed to Empress Celene herself, which Cassandra and Blackwall began poring over. Varric pulled out one of Celene’s seals next, declaring it genuine as he compared it to the official invitation in his pocket. Finally, all that was left was a silver pendant on a delicate chain. Varric lifted it carefully, and a spark of recognition shot through Eira.</p>
<p>“This is elven. I can tell from the vinework on the back. Why would Celene have this?”</p>
<p>“Huh, you don’t say? I say you pocket it, maybe that elven ambassador will know something.” Eira tucked the locket away into the interior pocket of her coat before the group moved onward, toward the gardens. They stepped out into the cool night air, only a hint of stars visible. They walked through a corridor of sorts, lined with carefully manicured hedges.</p>
<p>As they rounded a corner, Eira felt her blood run cold. There was a body lying on the neatly-manicured grass. Dressed in dark clothing, tailored into sharp angles. She had seen enough Venatori to recognize their dress. The real question is what they were doing here. The group froze, but there was no other movement around them. </p>
<p>“Venatori. What are they doing here?” Cassandra hissed.</p>
<p>“Could be working with this merc group the Warden was talking about,” Marjana said. </p>
<p>“What does Florianne have in this?” Varric said, frowning at the corpse. The others debated, but Eira listened silently. She felt sick, her stomach twisting and churning. The night had officially gone from difficult to dangerous. There was a very real threat inside the palace, more than just one lone assassin. She forced down the panic welling inside her.</p>
<p>“I should meet with my advisors. They should know what’s happening.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. Chapter 56</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Continuing the investigation at Halamshiral</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a quick flurry of straightening uniforms, tucking daggers, and tidying hair before the team was ready to re-enter the ball. They separated immediately, trying to allay the appearance of sneaking around together conspiratorially, which, of course, was exactly what they had been doing. Eira hung back a moment, fiddling with the clasp mechanism that held her retractable staff in its compacted form. A creation of Dagna’s. It was serviceable, but frustratingly fiddly to actually operate. Once she managed the clasp and tucked away the staff, she held her head high and readied herself to walk back into the party. Until a voice rang out from the bottom of the stairs.</p><p>“Well, well, what have we here?” The woman waited at the bottom of the stairs. Eira tried to think of any excuse for her presence in the tucked-away corner, but her panicked mind raced fruitlessly. </p><p>“The leader of the new Inquisition, the fabled Herald of the Faith.” The woman was severe. Her black hair stark against pale skin, drawn back elegantly. Her lips painted dark, her eyes shadowed in black. She wore a daring gown of burgundy that plunged deep, with full black skirts. She was ornamented in gold, with a heavy necklace around her collar. </p><p>“Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself.” Despite her words, she didn’t seem to particularly revere Eira. It was almost as if she were mocking, though it wasn’t clear if it was Eira or the believers that she reviled. Eira shrank inward, forgetting all of Josephine’s coaching while faced with someone as sharp and terrifying as this woman was.</p><p>“What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder. Do even you know?” Eira felt anger rise in her. Who was this woman to insult her? </p><p>“What do you want from me?” Eira said, voice low. The woman didn’t appear bothered. She began to walk through the vestibule, leaving Eira to scramble as she followed.</p><p>“I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.” Eira’s eyes grew wide as she made the connection. This was the woman Leliana had warned her about, and asked her to investigate. </p><p>“You... have been quite busy this evening. Hunting in every dark corner of the palace.” Eira felt another swell of panic. How much did this woman know?</p><p>“Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?” Morrigan turned to her as she leaned over the balcony above the entryway stairs. </p><p>“I suppose that would depend on what you’re hunting,” Eira asked. Morrigan laughed. It was a cold, terrifying sound.</p><p>“You are being coy.”</p><p>“I’m being careful.”</p><p>“Not unwise, here of all places. Allow me to speak first, then. Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor: a key found on the Tevinter’s body.” Morrigan reached into the pocket beneath her skirts and produced a small, tarnished brass key. It looked unassuming.</p><p>“Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.” </p><p>“Why are you protecting her? You don’t look like a bodyguard.” Eira regarded Morrigan through narrowed eyes.</p><p>“If anything were to happen to Celene, eyes would turn first to her ‘occult advisor.’ Even if they knew otherwise. There are sharks in the water, and I will not fall prey to them. Not now, not ever.” Eira stared at her a moment longer, before extending her hand to take the key. Morrigan smiled, and it was a chilling thing. </p><p>“Be careful, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter.” Morrigan smoothed her skirts and readied herself to leave. She turned back to Eira for a moment, shooting her a cold grin. “What comes next will be most exciting.” And with that, she walked off into the crowd. Eira found herself staring blankly, even after Morrigan had disappeared into the crowd. Whatever she had expected, it certainly hadn’t been that. She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if the action would calm her swirling thoughts. She was interrupted by another unfamiliar voice.</p><p>“Excuse me, my Lady,” the servant said. She had brown skin and tawny hair, and two long, pointed ears. The only other elves at this ball were servants, a fact of which Eira was all too aware. “You’ve been requested, my Lady. If you would follow me?” She appeared nervous. Eira walked after her, but felt uneasy. She may very well be walking into some sort of a trap. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the servant, but she knew the woman was only doing what she was told. And Eira didn’t know who was telling her. The two walked through the side halls, which were far emptier than the main hall of the party. The servant stopped at a tall set of doors leading out to a secluded balcony, overlooking the gardens, and motioned for Eira to go through. Eira was tense as she did, her eyes scanning for a threat. When she saw the other woman on the balcony, she felt the fear leak out of her. It was another elf.</p><p>She wasn’t dressed as a servant, which meant she wasn’t one. She went to no efforts to disguise her ears, and so must have some sort of standing in her own right. Josephine had mentioned an elven ambassador, and Eira would bet that this was her. She was slight, and dressed in clothes much less ostentatious than the rest of the court. She wore a silver mask around her eyes, in keeping with Orlesian fashion, and her hair was concealed under a cloth around her head. </p><p>“Inquisitor Lavellan, lovely to meet you. We haven’t been properly introduced, have we? I am Ambassador Briala.” Briala spoke in an Orlesian accent. She must have grown up in an alienage in the country.</p><p>“I’m Eira Lavellan. But you already know that, it appears.” Eira risked a smile. If anyone were to be an ally to her tonight, it would be the Ambassador. “Whose Ambassador are you, exactly?”</p><p>“If the nobility is going to treat elves as if we are not citizens, we may as well have the trappings of a foreign power. But I would not expect one of the Dalish to be familiar with our struggles.” Briala’s words cut through Eira like a knife. </p><p>“I was raised Dalish, that is true. But I have found myself in the past year having had quite an educational experience with <i>shem</i> politics.” </p><p>“I suppose that is true as well. They’ve taken quite well to you, my reports say. Do you worry what will happen when they turn? Shartan was a figure in their religion once as well.” Briala watched her carefully. Eira gripped her hands along the banister, knuckles white.</p><p>“I would be a fool not to worry. I hope your reports do not accuse me of naivety.”</p><p>“Not of that, no.” Briala smiled. Eira wasn’t sure if she was being insulted. She was becoming very tired of these games very quickly. Briala turned to face the gardens.</p><p>“I had intended to try to track down those murdering my people, but it seems the Tevinter assassin already met an end. Do I have you to thank?”</p><p>“Not for that one. But I suspect there are more, and I will not let them live.” Briala nodded.</p><p>“The Council of Heralds’ Emissary, that was not your work either, I assume?”</p><p>“What?” Briala turned to Eira, huge eyes staring into hers.</p><p>“The body was found in the courtyard earlier tonight. Although you arrived with the grand Duke, you don’t seem to be doing his dirty work.”</p><p>“Gaspard had him killed?”</p><p>“It was the Chalons family crest on the dagger in his heart.” Eira breathed in sharply, trying to control the fear inside her. <i>Enemies abound, indeed</i>. “I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace? Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight.” Briala crossed her arms, looking at Eira expectantly. </p><p>“I will not let that happen. I’m here to stop this mad assassination attempt.”</p><p>“I misjudged you, Inquisitor. You might just be an ally worth having.” Briala smiled slightly. “What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it.” </p><p>“I would be happy to work with another elf, for once.” Briala sniffed, an offended huff she did little to conceal. </p><p>“I know which way the wind is blowing. I would be surprised if you were not part of the peace talks by the end of the night. And if you happen to lean a little bit our way? It… could prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought.” Briala turned and left, then. Eira looked out over the gardens, watching the nobles tittering and swaying in their flashy clothes. </p><p>Eira walked back into the Grand Hall. She met Leliana’s eye as she was engaged in conversation with several of the nobility, and flashed her a quick sign with her hand. Leliana would excuse herself and follow in a few minutes, ready to meet with Eira and her other advisors. Josephine, too, nodded as Eira walked by. When she reached Cullen, however, he called out to her.</p><p>“Ah, Inquisitor!” He looked desperate. “Apologies, but I must speak with-- no, I really must-- excuse me,” he said to the small crowd of people around him. He all but elbowed them out of the way as he extracted himself from the nobles. He walked quickly away, leaving Eira to trail after him to the small corner of the palace they had agreed upon as a meeting place. He looked like he was in pain, wincing and pinching at the bridge of his nose. When they arrived, Leliana was already waiting. Josephine was not far behind.</p><p>Eira explained everything she had seen and heard. She told them of finding the note to the mercenary captain, of finding the Tevinter body. She told them of meeting Briala and of the murder of the emissary. She told them of the disappearances of the servants, and of meeting Morrigan. Leliana looked sour-faced at the mention of the woman, and Cullen blanched white, muttering a “Maker preserve me”. </p><p>“I forgot you two met,” Leliana said to Cullen. He looked strained.</p><p>“Yes well, there is unfortunately not much I’ve forgotten about Kinloch.” Eira wanted to ask, but didn’t want to derail the conversation they needed to have about their plans for the evening. Had Morrigan been one of the mages of the tower who had hurt Cullen? She felt a twist of fury inside her. </p><p>“Is she a threat?” Jsoephine asked.</p><p>“Morrigan is an unpredictable woman. But we traveled together for nearly a year, and she did nothing to harm me or my friends. I cannot say I trust her, but after your conversation with her, it seems unlikely she is our assassin,” Leliana said. </p><p>“Morrigan aside, we need to discuss our plans to address these developments,” Cullen said. His forehead was creased in a grimace of pain. </p><p>“I think this key opens the royal wing, it’s the only place I haven’t been able to get into,” Eira said, holding up the unassuming key. “Maybe I’ll find some evidence of who’s hired the Vint mercenaries?”</p><p>“Do we really think Gaspard is behind the Tevinter presence? It does seem extreme, and there has been no previous indication that the man has Tevene contacts,” Josephine said.</p><p>“I agree. I would believe he would hire a mercenary group, but he has spent his career working against foreign influence in Orlais,” Cullen added. </p><p>“Then there is at least one other player in this. Eira, do be careful,” Leliana said. Eira thought of the people she had met that night. None of them were particularly paragons of goodness. She wasn’t looking for a needle in a haystack, she was looking for a needle in a pile of needles. It wasn’t lost on her that the elven servants dying in the shadows were the only innocent parties.</p><p>“Oh! Leliana, I almost forgot! Do you recognize this?” She pulled the elven pendant from her pocket and handed it over to Leliana. </p><p>“I have seen something like this before. Where did you find it?”</p><p>“We found it in... ah... I think in Celene's quarters. At least, everything else in the chest belonged to Celene, letters and things like that.”</p><p>“You stole a piece of jewelry from the Empress?” Josephine hissed. Eira gave her a guilty smile, while Josephine shook her head. </p><p>“This will be <i>very</i> useful, Inquisitor. Don’t let Josie’s sensibilities make you think otherwise.” Leliana and Josephine shuffled back to the party. Cullen remained, leaning against the wall behind him.</p><p>“I will return in a moment, I just…” he began, sounding strained.</p><p>“Not enjoying the party, Cullen?” Eira said. He rewarded her joke with a laugh.</p><p>“Not particularly, no. These Orlesians won’t leave me alone. I feel like fresh meat in a mabari kennel.”</p><p>“You’re not enjoying the attention? Better they stare because you’re handsome than because of your ears… well, ear.” Eira touched the tips of her ears, one long and pointed, one torn and short. </p><p>“Has anyone said anything to you? Done anything? Because if they have, I’ll--”</p><p>“No, Cullen.” Eira put her hand on his arm, and he calmed. “I can just see the way they look at me. But really, most of them avoid me completely, which I really don’t mind.” </p><p>“I’ll admit, that does sound preferable.” Cullen smiled at her. For a moment, she forgot everything else. If only she were with him somewhere else, somewhere not here. Had she seen him smile once tonight, before now? Or was he genuinely at ease with her?</p><p>“Well, I know I’m not the only one competing for the honor, but maybe once I’m through all of this you could save me a dance?”</p><p>“No, thank you.”</p><p>“Oh.” Eira felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. How stupid could she be? Cullen had been kind to her, and she had misread his friendship as romantic interest. </p><p>“<i>Maker preserve me</i>, I’ve been asked so many times I’m answering automatically now. It’s not you, I just… this sort of thing isn’t for me.” </p><p>“No, that’s okay! It was a foolish thing to ask.” Eira forced a smile to her face. “I, ah… should get going. There’s a lot to investigate. Don’t go back until you’re ready, okay?” Eira turned and walked away, before he could see the forced smile fade from her tired face.</p>
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<a name="section0057"><h2>57. Chapter 57</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Continuing Halamshiral</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira’s footsteps echoed through the aparments, the raised heels of her boots clicking against the stone. The halls were strangely empty at first, devoid of all but the sound of their footsteps and the whisper of their clothing. They had stumbled upon a body, an elf dressed in servants’ clothing. A dagger had been drawn across her neck, and her blood spilled out onto the cold stone of her sleeping quarters. Eira had yelped in surprise, only to be met be insistent shushing from Varric. The whole night had her on edge. The sound of the scream down the hall tore her from her own thoughts. </p><p>“Stay back!” The team moved in a flash, bolting from the room and down the hall toward the hall. Footsteps thundering now, they reached the door. It was locked. Varric pulled lockpicking tools from his pocket, but Marjana shoved him aside and, grabbing a decorative statuette from its place in the hall, bashed at the doorknob. It fell away with a wrenching noise. This was clearly not Marjana’s first forced entry. </p><p>The room was richly decorated, though it looked just too pristine. An elven woman was crouched on the floor, backing away from a masked figure approaching with a knife drawn. The warriors rushed in, daggers drawn, but before they could reach the assassin, Eira sent a wave of force above his head, crashing his body to the ground in a heap. Cassandra rushed in and knelt on the assassin’s back, grinding her knee into his shoulder. He struggled and writhed until Cassandra plunged her dagger into his shoulder. Perhaps it spoke badly of Eira that she felt a rush of satisfaction at his pained yell. Eira quickly crossed the room and stood by the servant, still broached on the floor and trembling. She scanned for any additional threats, but no one else in the room moved. Cassandra had pulled the assassin to kneel on the hard marble floor. To his credit, he did not appear afraid. </p><p>“Who are you working for? Talk,” Cassandra demanded, voice hard. Marjana came to stand beside them, her dagger held out before her dangerously. The man spat at Cassandra, who grunted in disgust and shoved him to the floor. </p><p>“You think this is a game? Tell us what you know or I’ll cut your fucking throat!” Marjana yelled. She straddled the assassin, kneeling on his arms and holding her dagger against his cheek. </p><p>“I am not afraid of dogs, Fereldan,” the man said, his accent thick. Marjana roared, and in one swift motion plunged her dagger into his throat. Blood spurted from the wound, and the man coughed up pink-red foam as he died.</p><p>“What is wrong with you?” Cassandra yelled, pulling Marjana from the body. The women glared at one another.</p><p>“He deserved to die.”</p><p>“Yeah, but we could’ve gotten information first, Killer,” Varric complained. Bright red blood began to pool on the pale marble. Cassandra walked to the other side of the room, exchanging tense words with Blackwall while shooting angry glares back at Marjana. Marjana chewed her fingernails while she watched Varric search the assassin’s pockets and pouches, finding little of use. Eira watched the others, trying to let her heart rate slow. There was a quiet squeak behind her, and she turned to see the elven servant shaking. Tears streamed down her face.</p><p>“P-please, I…” the woman said. Eira turned to her, forcing a soothing expression to her face.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“I’m… I don’t think I’m hurt.” The woman began to stand on shaky legs, taking the hand Eira offered to her. She wiped her sleeve across her wet face and took several shaky breaths to calm herself before continuing.</p><p>“No one’s supposed to be here… Briala said…” she sighed, looking down at her hands, “I shouldn’t have trusted her.”</p><p>“Briala told you to come to this wing of the palace? You’re one of her spies, then?” Eira asked.</p><p>“Not personally. The Ambassador can’t be seen talking to the servants.” The woman’s voice was laced with bitterness. “We get coded messages at certain locations. But the order came from her. She’s been watching the Grand Duke all night. No surprise she wanted someone to search his sister’s room.”</p><p>“This room belongs to Grand Duchess Florianne? What were you trying to find here?”</p><p>“The message didn’t say. I should have known it was a setup.” The servant hugged her arms around herself. Eira’s mind raced, trying to find an explanation that didn’t involve Briala murdering her own people.</p><p>“Is there anyone else who knows the code and the drop locations? Could someone else have sent you here?” </p><p>“I… don’t know. Any of us could do it, but… no. No one else would send me here. It had to be Briala.”</p><p>“I just don’t understand why she would do this.”</p><p>“I knew her before. When she was Celene’s <i>pet</i>.” Her words were laced with anger. “<i>Now</i> she wants to play revolution, but I remember. She was sleeping with the Empress when Celene purged our alienage. She’s never cared for us.” The elf looked so hurt. Eira pressed her lips together in anger. Briala dared accuse the Dalish of ignoring the other elves,  then turn around and do this?</p><p>“Go to the ballroom, find my Ambassador Josephine Montilyet. She will make sure you are protected, if you will tell us what you know about Briala and Celene.”</p><p>“It would be my honor, Inquisitor.” The servant bowed, then scurried away. Eira turned to her companions, and opened her mouth to speak. </p><p>That was when they heard the sound. </p><p>The searing, raking crash of a rift opening. Eira’s eyes went wide, mimicking the expressions of her companions. They ran toward the sound, all politics forgotten. The hallways were dark, with only dim lanterns lining them. They passed prim furniture and fragile vases as they thundered down the hall. A door stood ajar at its end, and a green glow ebbed from the other side. Eira’s hand pulsed in response, sending waves of pain up her arm. Cassandra reached the door first, followed closely by Marjana and Blackwall. She pulled open the door, and the others dashed in. Eira tumbled in behind them, her palm searing. She was surprised to see the room filled with mercenaries, arches with their bows drawn and pointed at her and her companions. Cassandra and Blackwall flanked her protectively, while Marjana snarled. </p><p>“Inquisitor! What a pleasure. I wasn’t certain you’d attend,” a familiar voice called from across the room. Eira looked up to the raised landing. Florianne paced atop it, looking completely unperturbed. “You’re such a challenge to read, I had no idea if you’d taken my bait.”</p><p>“What are <i>you</i> doing here?” Eira called back, settling into a fighting stance and brandishing her flimsy staff.</p><p>“Corypheus insisted that the Empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint my master.”</p><p>“Corypheus? Why would you work for him? You’re royalty! You have everything!”</p><p>“You think so small, Inquisitor. Why settle for an empire when Corypheus will remake the entire world? I admit, I will relish the look on Gaspard’s face when he realizes I’ve outplayed him. He always was a sore loser.” Florianne’s voice was calm, amused. Eira felt her every nerve on edge, knowing the room would break into deadly combat at any moment. She just needed to keep Florianne talking.</p><p>“I don’t understand why Corypheus wants Celene dead.”</p><p>“Celene’s death is a stepping stone on the path to a better world. Corypheus will step into the Black City and claim the godhood waiting for him. We will cast down your useless Maker and usher in a united world, guided by the hand of an attentive god.”</p><p>“So what, you kill Celene and Corypheus makes you the ruler of… everything? Do you even hear yourself? This is mad!”</p><p>“Think what you like, Inquisitor, my plan will be completed. All I need to do is keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. A pity you’ll miss the rest of the ball, they’ll be talking about it for years.” Florianne’s face hardened, and her voice grew harsh. “Kill her, and bring me her marked hand.” She turned to leave. Eira gasped and threw up a magical barrier around her companions. The arrows the mercenaries shot bounced off it, each one pinging against the magical energy and cracking it apart. Eira looked at the mercenaries. They were armored, well-armed, and ready for a fight. Her companions were a poor comparison, with their meager weapons. Eira’s magic was their most potent tool, but she couldn’t fight them all off at once, not if they were focused on her. But perhaps, if there were something else on the battlefield for them to fight… Eira raised her hand and, in one swift motion, ripped open the gentle green seam of the rift. The demons poured out, appearing around the room as the veil was torn. The mercenaries shouted in alarm, turning their attention away from the group to fight for their lives against the rage demons spewing fire. Eira focused all her energy on keeping her team safe. Protective glyphs sparkled beneath their feet, and shimmering barriers cooled their skin. They moved as a unit, fighting anyone who turned their attention to them. The room was filled with screams and clashes of metal as the three factions scrapped. Eira felt a trickle of blood slide down the side of her face, though she couldn’t remember what had caused it. She flung spell after spell, continuing the barrage of energy around them as her friends stabbed and fought. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she scraped against the bottom of her mana reserves. She had to keep going. </p><p>Finally, the demons had been defeated and most of the mercenaries lay dead. Eira sealed the rift, then turned to the remaining fighters with a challenge in her eyes. They laid down their weapons and backed away slowly. Eira paid them little mind. Cullen would rally the soldiers they had brought and the mercenaries would be dealt with. She looked at her companions. Marjana’s uniform was more red than white now, the stain seeping from a wound on her shoulder. Blackwall’s uniform was burned and smeared with black ash from the rage demons’ attacks. Cassandra was largely unmarred, but the trim had torn from her neckline and her jacket was covered in tears and holes. Varric was limping, though the dark pants they all wore concealed any blood. Eira could tell the ends of her lace cape, tucked up on her arm, were singed short from the fire she had wielded. Her hair hung around her face in ragged curls, pulled from the pins that held it back. She wasn’t sure if the blood splattered across her white jacket was her own. Eira could hear her blood rushing through her ears, burning through her body. Finally, there was something simple. There was a goal, and an enemy. This was something she was qualified for.</p><p>“Let’s go,” she said. Then she turned and ran, retracing her steps to the ballroom.</p>
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<a name="section0058"><h2>58. Chapter 58</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Confronting Florianne</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen paced nervously, to the evident annoyance of his hangers-on. The ladies, and more than a few gentlemen, had spent the evening tittering and fluttering about him, an endless swirl that made his stomach clench. The way they pressed against him, ever present, hands grabbing, eyes watching, brought back the memories he could never forget. Sweat beaded on his temple, and he wiped it away indelicately. He could do little for the trail of salty moisture that wove down his back, itching between his shoulder blades. The relentless attention was becoming unbearable. He hadn’t felt so like an animal in a cage since… well, since Kinloch. A woman beside him simpered and smirked, saying something he couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears. His face flushed red as he felt fingers pinch his behind. Anger, shame, dread, all of it welled up too fast to control, too strong to shove down and hide behind a placid smile. He shoved the woman away, earning gasps and frowns from the crowd around him. They fell silent, but he didn’t care. For once, they gave him cautious space as he stalked away.</p><p>How was it that this night was worse than storming Adamant?</p><p>Cullen walked off, seeking the fresh air of the gardens. He leaned against the stone wall of the palace, gasping breaths of cool, sweet night air. He brought a trembling hand to rake through his hair, not caring anymore that he would pull his curls from the slick styling Josephine had ordered. If there was one kindness here, it was that there were no phials of lyrium, no soft blue stones to tempt him. He hadn’t craved this badly since he had thought Eira was dead.</p><p>Eira. Not only was she alive, but she was kinder to him than he ever deserved. But, more pressing than his usual spiral of self-hatred, she had been in the Royal Wing for longer than he had expected. Too long. He heard the bells ring out, calling the court to the ballroom. The footmen were ushering the guests in that direction, preparing for Empress Celene’s speech. He followed, unsure if he should break away and try to find the Inquisitor. One severe look from Josephine across the ballroom, though, cooled his ambitions. So he stood and watched as Celene took her place on the balcony overlooking the dance floor, her cousins Florianne and Gaspard behind her. His hand twitched by the hilt of his sword, though the ceremonial sabre would be a poor weapon in a fight. </p><p>As Celene was readying herself to address the gathered crowd, the ballroom doors burst open with a thundering slam. Cullen felt his heart leap, adrenaline pumping through his body at the sudden noise. He had drawn his sabre without even realizing. Eira ran through the open doors at a breakneck speed, forcing the nobles to scramble out of her way. She was bloody and disheveled. Something had gone very wrong. Cullen began to push through the crowd, but made little headway toward her. She vaulted over the stone railing, falling forward the fifteen feet to roll once she hit the dance floor. Cullen pushed his way to the stairs, more forceful in shoving aside the gasping nobles. As he reached the floor, he saw Grand Duchess Florianne fly forward over the banister, yanked forward by some invisible force. Her body crumpled in a heap, but she began to right herself quickly. The palace guards were moving upon the dance floor, toward Eira. She slammed the bottom of her staff against the marble, and a wave of force crashed outward from her, pushing back the guards. Cullen, too, felt himself fly backward and smack against the wall. He righted himself in a second, only to watch Eira raise her hands emphatically. A ring of flames wreathed the middle of the floor, a searing moat that separated her and Florianne from any outside interference. Cullen heard the screams around him as the partygoers began to panic in earnest. </p><p>“For Corypheus! Kill them all!” Florianne cried. Among the crowd, daggers were drawn. Cullen swore and looked toward Celene. Leliana was there already, turning away a blade from a less-skilled bard. The grand hall was in chaos. Bodies fell as assassins among the guests began to slice through corsets and court jackets. There was a press toward the doors, a great throng that threatened trample. Cullen had seen it before. The doors opened inward. The crowd would crush, and the people would be unable to open the doors against the weight of their own desperation. Those closest to the doors would be smothered against the walls by the force of the crowd. He brandished his sabre before him, which was enough to earn him passage through the panicked hall with only modest shoving. He reached the grand windows, arched and sparkling with their stained glass. He was buffeted by the people, streaming toward the closed doors. Turning his sabre, he struck the pommel against the window’s glass. Once. Twice. Thrice. On the fourth blow, a crack appeared. He struck one last time, watching as cracks began to spiderweb away from his blow. He turned and shoved his elbow against the weak point. He broke through, gasping as he felt the glass slice his arm. Immediately, he felt the wet, red heat that soaked through his sleeve. The pane shattered, falling in a crash around his feet. The crowd around him paused for just a moment, and it was his chance to dodge out of the way before they rushed in, taking advantage of the new escape route he had created. Surveying the room, he saw that Cassandra and Blackwall had taken note of his tactic, and were beginning to break the windows around the room to allow the crowd egress. He turned his attention to the dance floor for just a moment, before dashing off to protect Empress Celene.</p><p>Eira shot volleys of lightning, most of which arced across the floor and missed their target. Florianne was faster than she had any right to be. Eira stumbled as an arrow lodged itself in her shoulder, red stain spreading from the point. Cullen wanted nothing more than to join her, to protect her, but the flames around the floor burned hot as ever. At least it kept the physical attacks from her. She raised a shimmering barrier around herself, then set glowing glyphs upon the ground, trying to hinder Florianne’s dodging movements. </p><p>Cullen reached Celene’s side, immediately turning his back to her and holding his sabre forward. Perhaps it was a poor weapon, but it would fare well enough against daggers. Leliana hurled a dagger, letting it tumble in the air until it reached its target. A crossbowman, dressed in Tevinter leathers, fell to the ground, dagger protruding from his eye. Cullen lunged toward an assassin who approached. It was insultingly easy to impale the man with his sabre, pushing the steel through his gut. Inquisition soldiers had joined the fray, he noted, pouring in from their stations outside the palace. They were mainly shepherding the crowds that were fleeing the ballroom, and rooting out the assassins among them. An explosion flashed in his peripheral vision, bringing his attention, along with that of everyone else in the room, to the dance floor. </p><p>Eira was bleeding from a wound in her stomach, where a crossbow bolt had cut into her flesh. It was likely very painful, but would take hours to actually kill her. The archer had poor aim. Florianne, for her own, had stepped onto a fire glyph that Eira had set. That had been the explosion. Her gown was alight, and she appeared dazed by the sudden force that had rocketed up from her feet. Perhaps later Cullen would chuckle at the irony of Eira forcing the nobility to dance around her own devices, but for now, he watched with equal dread and admiration as Eira raised her staff. She swung it down decisively, and a wave of force pushed Florianne to the ground. Florianne didn’t get up. In fact, she didn’t move at all. Her body remained splayed out, back down, in an awkward position. Cullen would have thought her dead, if not for her wide eyes swirling wildly in panic. So she was paralyzed. Eira looked to Cullen with half a smile. Her chest was heaving, and her movements betrayed her pain. She raised her arms, then closed her eyes and pushed her palms downward. The flames that wreathed the dance floor sank down, as if they had never existed.</p><p>Cullen ran to her. He paid little heed to the Inquisition soldiers and palace guards who had moved to restrain Florianne, who was beginning to regain movement of her limbs. She was hissing threats and spitting insults, but her threat was contained. He should, perhaps, be the one to detain her officially, but he didn’t care. He came to stand before Eira, who shot him a smile through the haze of pain that masked her face. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms, to hold her safe, to carry her away. But he knew the stomach wound would only worsen if he bent her. He began to examine her quickly for other injury.</p><p>“I’m okay, Cull,” she murmured. Her labored breathing argued otherwise. He pulled her arm around his shoulders, stooping slightly, and began to walk her from the floor. The palace guards who approached them were quickly dispatched by the glare Cullen shot them. As they reached the vestibule, he reluctantly handed her to the few healers the Inquisition had brought to accompany them. He hovered beside them as they brought her to the Hall of Heroes, where the Inquisition soldiers had set up a sort of triage. Healers and chirurgeons were working on some of her team. One approached him, insisting that the gash on his arm be repaired. He had forgotten about it. He shrugged them off, despite feeling the blood still flowing from the wound. He knew it would likely require attention to close up appropriately, stitches at least. But he wouldn’t leave Eira’s side. Finally, the healer conceded to follow him to the cot where they laid her, doing their best to attend to his arm while he hovered over her. He paid little attention to the cool glow of the healing magic that knit the gash back together.</p><p>“Commander, we need you in the ballroom.” Cullen turned to Leliana’s voice, ignoring the muffled protests of the healer.</p><p>“I am staying here with the Inquisitor.”</p><p>“She is fine, Cullen. She is in capable hands. What she needs from you most right now is for the Commander of her Inquisition to publicly take charge of the situation.” Cullen scowled at Leliana, his deepest, meanest look, but she was completely unfazed. Finally, he sighed.</p><p>“Can’t Josephine do it?”</p><p>“Josephine is with the ranking leaders, facilitating the peace talks and ensuring we have some measure of control over the outcome. I will be sweeping the palace with my agents to make sure there are no hidden threats lingering. <i>You</i> need to be taking Florianne into custody, and giving instructions to keep order at the palace.” Leliana looked to Eira with a smirk. “You know I’m right, Cullen.”</p><p>“Really, I’m going to be fine. I- ah!” Eira grimaced as the healers removed the bolt from her stomach. Her face twisted in pain, but relaxed as the cool blue glow of magic began to suffuse the wound. “I’m being taken care of.” He took her hand in his, twining his fingers around hers. Her brows twitched in surprise. “I’ll be up and back to work very soon, unfortunately. I’d appreciate if you got started on it without me, make things easier once I get back.” She winked at him, an exaggerated thing, trying to put him at ease. It would have worked better if she hadn’t whimpered after, clutching his hand tighter as the healers prodded at her shoulder. He knew she was right. He pulled himself away from her, aching for nothing more than to be by her side. He scowled at the ache that settled in his head as he walked to the ballroom, and began barking orders to Inquisition soldiers and palace guards alike.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi all! I'm going to be updating more slowly and probably sporadically in the next few weeks.</p><p>The good news: I'm pregnant!<br/>The bad news: I don't get "morning" sickness as much as "all-day" sickness. I've been having trouble finding energy to write (or function lol). BUT it's supposed to get better after a few weeks, so I'll be good as new soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0059"><h2>59. Chapter 59</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Concluding the evening</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eira walked through the crowd to the terrace where Josephine was meeting with Celene and Gaspard. The nobility stared at her with open fear and revulsion. It was rather refreshing, in all honesty. Gone were the simpering smiles, the whispers of “rabbit”, the greetings dripping with condescension. In the end, all it took to get some honesty from these people was a bloodsoaked jacket and a blatant display of violence. Deshanna would be ashamed. </p><p>Stepping out onto the balcony, Eira was greeted with the sounds of argument. She had expected the Empress and Grand Duke, but was surprised to see that Briala numbered among those important enough to attend. </p><p>“Please, the Inquisitor shall arrive soon. Can this discussion not wait until then? Surely you must acknowledge her role in thwarting the attempt on the Empress’s life,” Josephine said. </p><p>“Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court, Gaspard!” Briala said, ignoring Josephine.</p><p>“You’re the spymaster. If anyone knew this atrocity was coming, it was you.” Gaspard answered. </p><p>“You don’t deny your involvement.”</p><p>“I do deny it! I knew nothing of Florianne’s plans! But you, you knew it all, and yet you did nothing.” </p><p>“That is a serious accusation, Gaspard,” Eira said, approaching the group. The three Orlesians and Josephine turned to her, all too experienced to let any shock show, if they felt it at all. </p><p>“I don’t know which is better, Inquisitor. That he thinks I’m all-seeing, or that he’s trying so hard to play innocent and failing.” Briala shook her head. </p><p>“Enough! We will not bicker while Tevinter plots against our nation! For the safety of the Empire, I will have answers,” Celene said. </p><p>“And that, Empress, is something I believe our Inquisitor is uniquely positioned to provide,” Josephine said. Eira stood, waiting for Josephine to continue. Hoping she would. This was everything Eira didn’t want. She wasn’t interested in the rulership of Orlais. She didn’t care who sat on the throne, especially now that the connection to Corypheus had been removed. Her eyes flitted between the rulers, each looking at her with blank expressions, and Josephine, who was clearly waiting for her to take the lead. <i>Fenedhis</i>. </p><p>“I am glad that you survived the night, Empress. That was my goal in attending tonight, after all. I had expected to be belittled and mocked, though I suppose I had expected ‘knife ear’ over ‘rabbit’. What I didn’t anticipate was a member of your noble court actually working for a delusional creature that <i>both</i> our religions agree is a monster.” Josephine’s smile soured slightly as she watched Eira. No doubt she was hoping for a more diplomatic answer.</p><p>“Surely you cannot hold us responsible for her actions, Inquisitor,” Gaspard protested. Eira fought to keep the anger from her face as she answered.</p><p>“Only as much as you--” Eira cut herself off, seeing the horror on Josephine’s face. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then continued. “It is clear that the Orlesian court is not a shining example of virtue. But it is also clear that the stability of Orlais is important for its citizens and its neighbors. We-- I-- want to help.” The leaders eyed her, clearly intrigued. She met Briala’s gaze. The Ambassador was the most guarded, and likely for good reason. She had accused Eira of a lack of caring for the elves in <i>shem</i> cities. And she had been right. Eira had, until recently, thought of all elves as Dalish, completely forgetting the elves in their alienages. This, though, could be her chance to change things.</p><p>She talked then, of the things she had found. The things Briala had helped her see. She had discovered the emissary Gaspard had executed, and had given Eira valuable information. Eira herself had discovered the evidence of Gaspard’s smuggling mercenaries into the palace. She didn’t mention the servant she had rescued, the one Briala had sent to her death. It didn’t matter. Briala wasn’t a good person, but none of them were. And at least she might help the elves. Eira’s people. Celene and Briala seemed outraged, of course, at the tales of Gaspard’s treachery. Eira noticed that Briala had taken from her pocket the pendant Eira had given to Leliana earlier. Celene noticed too, and for some reason appeared… wistful, maybe? Eira managed to smile as the talks went on. Briala was sniping, Celene was somehow stern toward Gaspard and warm toward Briala, and Gaspard was outraged, a cornered animal defending himself. Eira didn’t feel any victory when Celene decided he was to be executed as a traitor, nor any pity. All she felt was hollow. How Josephine could spend her days navigating these affairs, Eira would never understand.</p><p>Gaspard was led off by the palace guards, and Celene and Briala turned to Eira. They appeared, by this point, to be a united front. So there was some sort of history between them, then.</p><p>“Inquisitor, we cannot thank you enough for all you have done for us,” Celene said, once again the placid and cool Empress. Eira wavered on her feet. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically.</p><p>“Thankful enough to offer military support? Now that your civil war is over, you could redirect your troops.” Josephine actually buried her head in her hand, so exasperated by Eira’s blunt words. But Briala smiled, and Celene seemed unshaken.</p><p>“We will negotiate the details with your Ambassador, Inquisitor. Now come, we must announce the news to our guests,” Celene said. Eira felt her shoulders droop as she sighed.</p><p>“I have done what is needed. I think it’s time I rested.” </p><p>“In that case, Inquisitor, I thank you once again.” Celene turned away sharply, her speed belying the frustration under her cool facade. “Come, Briala. Let us make you a Marquise.” Eira waved Josephine on, encouraging her to follow the pair, then turned to rest her elbows on the balcony’s stone railing. </p><p>Finally, a moment of peace.</p><p>Eira pulled the spiked crown from her head and turned it over in her hands absently. From the balcony where she stood, she had a view of the palace’s outer walls and the dark hills beyond. It was, in a way, peaceful. The air was perfumed sweet with the scent of lavender and the climbing roses that draped their way across the trellises above her head. In the distance, stars glimmered and twinkled. Eira closed her eyes and breathed in, letting the floral scent suffuse her nose, replacing the tang of blood that had stubbornly refused to leave. Haunting notes from the strings wafted out from the hall, drifting to her so delicately. She could almost believe this was a beautiful place. </p><p>“There you are,” came Cullen’s voice from behind her, so unexpected that she yelped and dropped her crown. It clattered to the stone floor with a metallic twang. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He did look genuinely sorry. Eira noticed as he rubbed the back of his neck that, despite the torn and bloodsoaked sleeve of his jacket, his arm appeared well healed. He walked over to her side, bending down to pick up the spiked headpiece. Eira placed it on the bannister, unwilling to burden herself with it another moment. She sighed heavily, looking out over the dark hills. Cullen stood next to her, leaning on the stone railing as he gazed out over Halamshiral.</p><p>“Are you alright? I know tonight has been…” Cullen said, trailing off. Eira looked over at him. The concern in his brown eyes nearly broke her. How was it that he was always there when she was ready to fall apart?</p><p>“It’s been a long night. I may be the first elf who’s eager to leave Halamshiral.” </p><p>“Perhaps. Celene has announced Briala as the first elven Marquise of Halamshiral. I suspect there will be a great deal of change for the elves who live there, hopefully for the better. I know you had a hand in that.” Eira felt a pang of guilt at his words. Of course, she was once again only thinking of the Dalish as if they were all elves.</p><p>“Please, no more politics. I’ve had enough for one night.”</p><p>“Of course. I…” Cullen’s face grew pink as he looked at her, then reached over to take her hand in his. The green glow of her palm shone against the silk of his black glove. “I know it’s foolish, but… I was worried for you tonight.” Eira cursed her traitorous heart for beating so loudly.</p><p>“Why would that be foolish? Your Inquisitor could have been assassinated at any turn.”</p><p>“True enough. I… I always worry, when you’re away. Though you’ve proven yourself to be quite a capable fighter. You were impressive, against Florianne tonight.” Eira felt a blush begin to burn her cheeks. He worried when she was away? But surely, any Commander would worry for the safety of the head of his order. She shivered as his thumb traced a lazy path along her hand. Perhaps his worry was not like any Commander, no.</p><p>“Your arm, it’s… you let the mages heal it,” she said. </p><p>“I didn’t even think about it. I was so worried for you I suppose I didn’t notice.” He stared out at the pinprick stars above them. “Perhaps it’s some progress,” he murmured, more to himself than to Eira. She squeezed her hand against his. There was a moment of silence, almost agonizing, as the previous song ended. Eira was a bit surprised that, after everything, she could still feel the flutter of nerves in her stomach. Then the strings began again, a slow, haunting waltz that echoed out of the hall.</p><p>“Eira, earlier, when you asked for a dance--”</p><p>“It’s okay,” she replied too quickly, tugging her hand from his. Her stomach twisted.</p><p>“No, I… Ah… I wanted…” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, face growing red. He sighed, then raked his hand through his hair. He stepped back, squared his shoulders, and then bowed toward her, extending a hand forward.</p><p>“Dance with me, Eira Lavellan. I-if you want to, that is.” Eira gaped at him, not quite believing what she was seeing. As if in a dream, she stepped forward and placed her hand in his. His face lit up, his smile wide and warm. She realized she was smiling back.</p><p>“I thought you didn’t dance, Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” she said. He laughed softly. She gasped slightly as he pulled her in, placing his hand gently on her back. She settled her hand on his shoulder, and he began a gentle push and pull as they moved through the now-familiar steps.</p><p>“For you, I will try.” Eira could feel a blush creeping from her face, down her neck, and likely splotched across her chest too. At least he was red too, pale cheeks burning crimson. He was surprisingly gentle, for someone so much larger than her. It was almost too much, staring into his brown eyes, but she couldn’t tear herself away. He was beautiful. From the pale curls that had escaped to frame his forehead, to the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled, to the stubble along his jaw framing his pink lips. He raised his arm and moved his hand from her back, her signal to turn. She spun a lazy circle as the violins crooned. When she returned to him, she was closer than she had expected. His palm pressed against her back, warm between her shoulder blades. Her body was inches from his as they stepped in time together. Surely she was imagining the heat that hung between them. </p><p>The last notes of the song echoed and quieted. Their bodies stilled. In the absence of movement Eira felt every inch of her buzzing. The smile had faded from his face, leaving him staring intently. Her eyes bounced between his. Eira barley dared to breathe. And then he leaned in and kissed her.</p><p>She gasped softly against his lips. He pressed hard, his hand on her back pushing her body against him. His lips crushed against hers, as if he were desperate to remove any gap between them. Eira felt her heart thundering in her throat as she tilted her head up to reach him better. Then, just as quickly as he started, he pulled back. Cullen’s face remained an inch from hers. His breath came quick and shallow, in time with hers. Eira realized she had moved her hand to the crook of his neck, fingertips brushing against the skin above his collar. She pulled her hand from his, weaving her fingers into the blond locks at the back of his head. Willing him not to pull away completely.</p><p>“I- I’m sorry… that was… um… really nice,” he murmured, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his lips. Eira felt all the longing, all the elation, bubble up to her lips, only to come out as an embarrassing giggle. His honey brown eyes bounced between hers, searching for an answer, a confirmation. Was that okay? </p><p>“That was perfect,” Eira whispered. She pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him. This time it was slow, sweet. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against his body gently. His lips were chapped, his stubble scratching at her upper lip. It was better than she had ever dreamed. She brushed her tongue along his upper lip, and he opened his mouth obligingly. She drank him in, swirling her tongue around his. His fingers tightened on her hip. She could spend hours like this, wrapped up in him, tasting him, winding her fingers through his hair.</p><p>A cough from behind them brought her back to reality. The two broke apart immediately, Cullen’s face redder than Eira thought possible. Josephine smirked mercilessly.</p><p>“I was thinking that it was time we left, and I was looking for our Inquisitor so we could begin the necessary goodbyes before our departure. But, if you two need another moment…” Cullen muttered an excuse and, after one last, longing look at Eira, walked back into the ballroom. Josephine maintained her composure until he was out of sight, before devolving into a fit of squeals. Eira giggled alongside her. It had certainly been an interesting night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>finally!!! :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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